


Anno Domini - Act I

by plumeriafairy14



Series: Angelborne [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angel Gabriel, Angels, Angst, Crime, Dark Fantasy, Demons, Fluff, Human Jack, M/M, Reaper 76, Reaper76 Reverse Big Bang 2k19, Supernatural - Freeform, Vampire Genji, Vampire Hanzo, Vampires, angel au, demon moira
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-26 22:16:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 44,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19777540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumeriafairy14/pseuds/plumeriafairy14
Summary: Jack Morrison. Commander of the LAPD-Special Operations Division.Human.There wasn’t anything that could surprise him after what he had seen throughout his career until an angel, mutilated to death, ended up in a park in LA. After he made sure that the other angels living in the city were under 24 hour surveillance, Jack takes on the case with his partner, Ana. At a dead-end, devoid of a good lead, Fate decided to meddle in and Heaven sent one of its best generals: An arrogant and lethal Archangel named Gabriel.With Gabriel’s arrival, Jack is thrust into the dark and bitter reality of near-immortals and he must strive through the struggle of solving one of the most difficult and bizarre cases he’s ever handled while trying not to get distracted by the powerful and seductively beautiful Archangel.Fic for the Reaper76 Reverse Big Bang 2019





	1. Angels We Have Heard on High

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! Fairy here back with a 'lil fic for you all. I joined the R76 RBB in an attempt to get out of my writing drought (which is pretty bad) and I ended up with this fic. I'm thrilled to have worked with [Giza](https://gartblog.tumblr.com/) on their Angel AU. 
> 
> I would like to give a HUUUGE thank you to Ryxl for being the wonderful beta for this work and for filling in the gaps where I couldn't. They were the one who stopped me from dropping out from this event and unearthed the potential of my drafts. Thanks, aunt Ry <3
> 
> Would also like to mention that there is a [sibling fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19780903/chapters/46827490) written by J Miguel since the artist got assigned two writers. 
> 
> I hope that you all enjoy this story!

**ACT I**

**Flectere si nequeo superos, Acheronta movebo**

_“If I can not bend the will of Heaven, I shall move Hell.”_

* * *

**Chapter I: Angels We Have Heard on High**

He faced the edge of the realm that was his home, the drop from the cliff high and the water below rippling a striking aquamarine. To the ignorant, it looked like the ocean. To higher beings like him, however, it was a doorway to another world.

The man stepped closer to the cliff’s edge, the tip of his steel-toed boot kicking a single pebble into the otherworldly ocean below. His eyes, irises ringed with inhuman silver, narrowed as he assessed the height in preparation for his jump, the breeze causing his dark brown hair to flutter over his undercut.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

The woman’s voice came out of nowhere, shattering the silence and his concentration. He turned around, the hem of his kevlar coat flapping in the billowing wind to face the figure in elegant white robes adorned with embroidered feathers of silver thread. On her back were ethereal dove white wings, the primaries tipped with gold, and her long golden hair whipped in the wind.

“I’m going to the human world,” he replied with a cocky smile.

The woman arched an elegant brow. “Why?”

“I heard interesting shit’s happening there. I’m going to take a look.”

“Oh?” She crossed her slim arms. “Interesting in what sense?”

“Humans. I want to see what they’re all about.” The man shrugged. “I only just got the free time to indulge my curiosity now.”

A look of cool disdain crossed the woman’s face, as he knew it would. Although she was youthful in her beauty, she was thousands of years old and she’d disapproved of his attitude for nearly all of them.

“The human world is a wasteland and humans are a loss cause, Gabriel.” She planted her left hand on her hip sternly, her voice sharp. “The place is crawling with demons.”

“What about the lesser angels, Angela?” The man, Gabriel, threw the question back without hesitation in rebuttal. “They’re down there, too. Ever think about them?”

“I think about them every single day!” Angela shot back. “But it is their choice to stay there, and I respect their choice. Unlike _some_ angels,” she continued in a scathing tone, “who can’t even respect their comrades enough to call them by their proper names.”

Ignoring the barb, Gabriel turned and faced the hundred foot drop. “You, Brig, and Rein can handle this place while I’m gone. I won’t take long.” He willed the glamor spell away and twin midnight wings faded into being on his back.

“Why do you insist on giving everyone ridiculous nicknames?” she demanded sourly. 

His wings looked like the canvas of the night sky as he spread them, feathers dusted with red and edged with steely silver that glinted from the tip of each vane.

Angela automatically shielded her eyes as Gabriel’s powerful wings beat once, launching him into the air. “Gabriel!”

The man said nothing, but flashed her a shit-eating grin before he closed his wings tightly behind his back and dove into the water below like a bullet.

“Asshole,” she muttered under her breath in the angelic tongue before she stormed away, heading back to the citadel that was the seat of power of the angelic realm.

~//~//~//~

The sight of the yellow tape and the blinking red and blue lights from the police cruisers were not new for Jack Morrison. Heavy droplets of rain fell from the dark gray sky and trickled down the rim of his raincoat hood as he approached the crime scene. A white quarantine tent was already set up to protect the evidence from the rain and conceal it from civilian eyes.

“What do we have here, Ana?” Jack asked when he walked up to his partner. Ana Amari’s usual pristine black hair was tucked away into the hood of her own raincoat, and she handed Jack a tablet with the crime scene photos and the statement from the witness who found the body.

“A body dump,” she replied grimly.

Jack felt his heart drop. Although never very common, there had always been a small number of guardian angels living among humanity, but that number had plummeted in recent years. News of angelic deaths in other states had reached an all-time high this year, with an angel’s corpse being discovered nearly every month. The last three guardian angels that resided in his city were all well-loved by the people, but the number of deaths in the rest of the country made him scared for their safety, and he’d spearheaded their protection program since the spike in angelic serial killings.

“Relax, he’s not one of yours.” Ana placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Take a look.”

Jack took a deep breath and swiped on the holopad to skim through the picture and reports. The pictures showed a male of medium build, face and chest smeared with mud from where he’d been dumped. He had bald spots, his pasty skin bore discolored splotches from chemical burns, and what appeared to be circles of magical runes were carved into his skin, but aside from that he had no visible wounds - easy to determine, because he was naked.

“A body dump, huh?” Jack muttered darkly. The nerve this person - or people; Jack couldn’t tell - had, dumping a body in his city! It made his blood boil, but a part of him was relieved that the body wasn’t any of his three charges. Police everywhere still had no leads on who was running around killing angels, and he didn’t want to have to find out if enforcement in the neighboring states were just that incompetent, or if the culprit was really that good at covering their tracks. “Who’s holding down the scene?” Jack demanded as he handed the holopad back to Ana, who took it and skimmed through the files as well.

“I got the call from Shimada,” she replied absently.

“Gotta be more specific, Ana.”

“Hanzo. I waited for you to arrive before jumping in.”

Jack nodded once before holding the yellow tape up for Ana to duck under. “Ladies first.”

“Ever the gentleman, I see.” Ana flashed him a small smile, which he returned with a slightly wider grin.

Once she was through, Jack followed and one of the officers unzipped the tarp door of the quarantine tent for them. The man inside had a sour frown plastered on his handsome, aristocratic face and the sharp blue and dark gray suit he was wearing cost more than a month of Jack’s salary, he was sure.

“No wonder the media isn’t hounding us.” Jack nodded at Hanzo with a small smile of approval.

“They wouldn’t dare.” Deep brown eyes ringed with red held Jack in place and he immediately broke eye contact. He knew better than to stare into a vampire’s eyes unless he wanted to be prey. Of course, Hanzo wouldn’t do that to him, but the trancing stare wasn’t something Hanzo could turn off, so Jack felt that adjusting his behavior was the easiest - and most polite - solution. “Have you read my report?” Hanzo asked as he stared at the corpse being poked and prodded at by the coroner team.

Jack nodded. It was a jogger who had discovered the body. They called the police, and that was that.

“Where’s your brother?” Ana asked, looking up from the tablet.

Hanzo and his younger brother Genji were a force to be reckoned with. Their personalities clashed, with Hanzo being the stern aloof one while Genji fluttered and flirted like a butterfly but when they worked together, they were a very efficient and lethal duo.

“Scouting for evidence around the area.” Hanzo replied. “He should be back soon.”

“If he doesn’t get distracted,” teased Ana.

“He wouldn’t.” Hanzo assured her. “He likes this profession too much. He feels like he’s playing at a game he’s good at.”

“Good to know,” Jack said. “And you? Do you _enjoy_ scaring away the media?”

Hanzo gave him a silent look and a small smile elegantly tugged at the corners of his lips. Although he looked about the same age as Jack, the age in Hanzo’s eyes said that he was eons older. For all Jack knew, he and Ana were the youngest in their squad - probably because they were the only ones who were human. Even the rookie, Lena the British-born fairy, was at least five decades older than Jack despite looking like she was fresh from the Academy.

“I’ve had many professions in my lifetime, Commander Morrison,” Hanzo replied. That small smile revealed the tip of his fangs. “But being a detective makes me feel like I’m hunting, and I quite enjoy the thrill of catching my prey.”

Jack’s survival instincts told him to run but he held his ground. Sure, in less-civilized areas humans were still prey, but Hanzo was a co-worker and the dark days of vampires hunting humans in this city were long gone. Hanzo and Genji were vampires of the modern world and they did everything within the bounds of interspecies cooperation. That didn’t mean it was entirely comfortable, being the superior officer to something that could turn him into a snack with almost no effort.

“Hanzo dear, don’t scare Jack.” Ana’s joking lightened the mood, and Jack appreciated that she was there to keep the tension down. After all, there was a dead body in there with them: the body of a person who did not deserve the fate that had befallen them.

“Aw, come on, Ana!” Jack whined in mock protest, unable to keep a grin off his face.

Hanzo snorted. “I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll leave this to the two of you.” He handed Ana the clip board containing the coroner team’s notes. “I’ll make sure to tell Genji to inform you about any findings he may have from his perimeter run.”

“Appreciate it.” Jack nodded, which Hanzo returned politely before grabbing a raincoat to put over his expensive suit. Protected from the elements, he exited the tent.

Beside him, Ana’s good mood faded away once they were alone with the dead body. It was even worse in person than in the pictures, but it always was. The two partners coordinated with the on-site coroners who did the initial collection of trace, prints, and pictures. With Hanzo no longer on the scene, however, members of the media started to gather until Ana had to step out to deal with them.

“Wrap this guy up and get him to Augustin for autopsy,” Jack instructed the team doing the clean-up. “You guys did great. If you’re all done here, then let’s call it a day.”

The small team looked at each other then at him before Jack was showered with smiles. He didn’t let his people slack off on the job but also showed his appreciation to the people he worked with and in return, his people liked him. He watched as the victim was zipped into a body bag and transferred to a stretcher before it was wheeled out.

Left alone in the tent, Jack pulled out his phone and thumbed in a message addressed to his charges. Someone had dumped a dead body here - even if it wasn’t an angel - and it was highly likely that the killer or killers were also in the area, searching for their next victim. Jack didn’t want to risk one of his own to be the next one to be dumped naked in the park for a jogger to find.

The angels here had to be on high alert. None of them were dying on Jack Morrison’s watch and he’d fight heaven and hell to keep it that way.

At 6PM, a vampire who bore a strong family resemblance to Hanzo walked into the office. There were droplets of water in his green hair, but the black leather jacket he wore was dry and Jack wondered if he’d stopped for a shower after coming back from his perimeter sweep. In keeping with his more flirtatious nature, Genji preferred clothes that were far more casual than Hanzo’s prized suits but the mischievous and carefree smile that usually completed his ‘rebel without a cause’ look was absent, and he entered their workplace wearing an uncharacteristic frown. After a brief glance to see who had come in, Jack returned his attention to the keyboard was hunched over while he typed out his report. He vaguely noted Genji walking over and perching on the edge of his desk but the vampire waited respectfully for him to finish typing and look up before speaking.

“Hey, Commander. “ The younger Shimada managed to pull up a tight smile. “Whoever they are, they know what they’re doing. The trail is clean and I wasn’t able to find anything.”

“That good, huh?” Jack muttered as he laced his fingers together and leaned his chin on them, staring blankly at his report. “Not even a trace?”

“I’ve scoured the area at least five times,” Genji said with a slightly-sheepish shrug. “I’m sorry about the absence of any discoveries.”

Jack let out a small, tired sigh before he shook his head and offered Genji a smile. “No, I should be the one apologizing. Thank you for the effort.”

“I enjoy running around the way I do.” The smile Genji was known for appeared, sharp fangs catching the light. “But this time, I am at a dead end. Maybe you will be more fortunate with Baptiste.”

Speaking of Baptiste, Jack decided that the man should have had enough time to finish his autopsy by now, and he should really check up on the body of their John Doe. He nodded at Genji and got up from his seat, stretching as he did, and groaned in relief as he felt at least three vertebrae pop. The green-haired vampire clapped him on the shoulder once before practically vanishing out of the office. Probably on his way to the pantry, Jack thought, and probably to raid some unfortunate soul’s blood stash. Said unfortunate soul being Hanzo, who was the only other person in the whole building with a taste for blood.

Jack walked up to Ana’s desk and found her scrolling through the pictures on her phone. When he leaned in for a closer look, he saw that they were her photos Fareeha had sent from today’s high school basketball game.

“Looks like a smile of victory to me,” Jack said softly. “Did she win?”

Ana looked up from her phone smile at him with a gentle expression that lit her eyes with maternal pride. “Of course she did.” She turned her attention back to the phone and tapped on the screen to send a stream of heart emojis and other pleased reactions before she closed the app and slipped the phone into her pocket. “I just wish I was there to see it,” she said with a small sigh.

“She understands, right?”

Ana nodded. She had explained the importance of her job to her daughter years ago, and Fareeha understood that there would be days her mother would have to put her job before basketball games and school performances. Jack was the same; he put his job before his personal life, and that was why he didn’t have any. He’d dated someone before, and in all honesty, Vincent was a great guy. But Jack was always on his toes because of his job. He missed anniversaries and couldn’t make it to dinners. When he came home, Vincent was already asleep, and his days off weren’t enough to compensate for all the time wasn’t able to spend with Vincent.

Their breakup had been mutual and they had been on good terms until the wedding. Vincent had invited him out of good will but Jack hadn’t been able to attend. He’d used the excuse of a case that had to be handled that da. But in truth, Jack just didn’t want to see Vincent get married to someone else and know that he’d lost him to someone who could give him everything Jack couldn’t.

“I can hear you thinking, Jack.”

Ana’s voice snapped him out of the place his thoughts had gone, and he rubbed his eyes and then his right temple as if it could brush the memories away. “Just thinking about the case.”

His long-suffering partner let out a frustrated huff. “Jack, I’m serious about my job and I like what I do but I don’t sacrifice my well-being for it and you shouldn’t either. Look at you, have you been getting enough sleep?”

“You’re not my mother, Ana.” Jack answered with a frown, but that didn’t have any effect on Ana. Nothing ever did because once she started her lectures, there was no stopping her.

“I won’t sit here while you neglect yourself,” she insisted, eyes narrowed like the falcon-headed god whose protection sigil was tattooed around her left eye.

Jack held those narrowed eyes for a long moment before giving in. “Fine.” There was no point in arguing; he wasn’t going to win and he knew it. “Let’s go pay the lab a visit and see if Augustin found something. The earlier we can call it a day, the earlier I can go home and get what passes for sleep by working out until I crash from exhaustion. Sound good?”

“You drive a hard bargain, Jack.” Ana gave him a warm smile and stood, pushing her chair neatly under her desk. “Let’s go see if the good demon doctor found us a lead.”

Dr. Jean-Baptiste Augustin was the city police’s chief coroner. Although the man was a demon, he was dedicated to his medical craft and Jack would be lying if he said that he hadn’t trusted the man when they’d first met. Baptiste still looked the same as the day they’d met, ten years ago when Jack was a rookie fresh from the academy. Jack had the idle realization, as they took the elevator to the basement, that he was the only one who looked older than he was supposed to; damn near-immortals. He couldn’t help imagining them all looking the same in twenty years, even Ana, while the stress of his job made him look twenty years older than his actual age.

Ana managed to look ageless because she had a very good skin care routine and took care of herself while Jack didn’t care for any of that. He found solace in chain smoking, a bottle of whiskey, and midnight jogs. He may have been the Commander of the station, but that didn’t stop him from handling cases like he had when he was a beat cop. He’d go mad if he was stuck behind a desk doing nothing but paperwork and attending meetings with the top brass. He also wanted his people to feel like he was still one of them, so he made an effort to get out and work cases even if he technically didn’t have to.

“Ah, good evening, Commander.” As they walked in, Baptiste looked up from the holopad he was holding - probably reviewing his findings. His black eyes crinkled at the corners as the man smiled at Jack from behind his medical mask, and he turned to offer the same greeting to Ana. “Captain Amari. Good evening.”

“Good evening, Baptiste.” Ana nodded as she returned the greeting. “Have you found anything interesting?”

“Ah, as a matter of fact, I have.” Those dark eyes flicked from Ana to Jack. Was exhaustion was getting the best of him, or did he just see shadows dance in the doctor’s eyes? “But, security measures first.” Baptiste pointed to a small supply table holding, among other things, a box of medical gloves and masks. “You seem to have made a habit of breaking the first safety rule of my domain. You’ve signed up for the city’s health insurance, I hope?”

That actually got a snort from Jack, followed by a low chuckle. “Gloves and masks, Ana. Wouldn’t want to catch a nasty virus.”

The shadows in Baptiste’s eyes flickered again and this time, he was the one who chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “Contrary to your belief, Commander Morrison, the masks and gloves meant for human autopsies are by the door. The ones on the table are enchanted with protective spells. This man isn’t human,” he explained, motioning at the lifeless body on the metal slab. The corpse had already been opened with a Y incision, baring the inside of the man’s body with a blanket covering the corpse from the waist down to preserve what dignity it still had, even in death.

“Magical circles and runes were carved on this man’s flesh; you knew that much already.” Baptiste’s index fingers hovered over the cuts they’d seen in the preliminary photos. “There are specific areas, however, that were hidden by the mud he was dumped in: the chest, the stomach, and most significantly... the forehead.” He showed them the areas respectively.

Jack and Ana were no strangers to macabre sights but this was one of the most disturbing that they’d seen. The corpse stared blindly, sightlessly, his eyes having been removed, and Jack wasn’t an expert on inhuman biology but he was certain that there should have been more internal organs than the few pitiful lumps that sat in a mostly-empty body cavity.

“The eyeballs have been scooped out,” continued the doctor, “but the wounds indicate that it was done postmortem. The brain, heart, lungs, liver, and intestines are also missing and of course, his wings have been cut off.”

“What?” Jack’s head snapped up. “You didn’t take them out?” Then the last words registered, and he felt his stomach churn unhappily at the confirmation. “This was an angel?”

“It was, and they were already missing when I cut him open,” the doctor replied somberly. Although it might have gone against his nature as a demon to express sympathy for the other side, he respected Jack’s determination to protect any angel that came into his city.

“But Hanzo said that there were no wounds or incisions when he found the body.” Ana frowned in confusion and swiped through the holopad with the case data just to make sure she wasn’t misremembering.

“Yes, and this is where it gets interesting: I recognized the runes.” Baptiste shook his head disapprovingly. “They look very similar to certain demonic symbols used in our funeral rituals but they’re not totally the same.”

Jack and Ana glanced at each other but said nothing and let Baptiste continue. Neither of them knew anything about demonic funeral rituals and while they had many questions, they didn’t want to cause any offense.

“When I cut open the body, the path of the saw was soft. Someone else had already cut it open, but it had been sealed shut afterwards. Healed.”

“The runes are demonic in nature,” Jack muttered, “so the perpetrator must be a demon.”

“But the wounds were healed and demons cannot heal.” Ana finished.

“That’s why I’m a doctor for dead bodies instead of live ones.” Baptiste winked at Ana.

“With what I’m getting here, there could be two killers working together: an angel and a demon.” Ana’s eyebrows furrowed. “But angels are not violent creatures. They wouldn’t kill. Could one have been coerced into this?”

Baptiste chuckled but shook his head. “Ah, captain. Demons are known to crave wealth and power to the point of being willing to kill and destroy for it but yet here I am, a humble coroner for the city police force, and my heart aches for the fate of this man.” He glanced sadly at the angel’s lifeless face.

“I…I’m sorry, Baptiste.” Ana was quick to apologize. “It’s not my intention to offend.”

Baptiste only laughed. “No offense taken, captain Amari.”

“What about both?” Jack suddenly interjected. “Someone who can destroy as well as heal? Or maybe - how sacred are these runes, would a demon share them with a non-demon?”

When Ana and Baptiste both stared at him, Jack wondered if he sounded crazy. Ten years on the force had taught him to think outside the box and more than one case had been cracked by spitballing crazy ideas. “Maybe it’s an angel who’s gone bad, for whatever reason, and has a grudge against their fellow angels. Abuse, demonic influence, drugs, maybe there’s an angelic taboo we’re not aware of, and they broke it, and now they’re seeking revenge. Or maybe,” Jack trailed off, rubbing his chin as he usually did when he was deep in thought. “A demon who can heal?”

Ana nodded at him. “Good possibilities.”

“What do you think, doc?” Jack looked at Baptiste. “You’ve been a live for a thousand years, maybe you’ve come across something.”

Baptiste pulled down his medical mask and frowned deeply at Jack. “Now THAT is offensive.”

“Uh…”

Baptiste did not break eye contact, his black eyes boring into Jack’s blue ones. “I’ll have you know that I am only three hundred and thirty six years old, commander, NOT a thousand.”

“Well, shit, sorry, doc.”

The atmosphere of the morgue grew colder as Baptiste kept Jack pinned with a flat glare, and Jack felt cold sweat bead on his forehead. He was sure his life was going to flash before his eyes any second before Baptiste suddenly broke into laughter.

“Ah, the look on your face is priceless, Commander,” he chuckled, waving one hand. “Good stuff.”

Jack groaned. “For the love of god, Augustin, really?”

Beside him, Ana giggled softly. “Taught you not to throw ages around carelessly, did it, Jack?”

“C’mon, Ana, not you too.”

Baptiste’s laughter mellowed and faded out as he put the holopad on the table before fetching a green toolbox from underneath the autopsy table. “I’m going to stitch him up and put him in the cooler, but to answer your inquiry, Commander, it is possible for an angel to have done this.”

That got Jack’s and Ana’s attention, and they watched in stunned silence as Baptiste opened the toolbox and took out the things he needed.

“Mind you, I am no expert on the matter and I have only heard this once. The words are hushed; it is a sacred topic for angels and they certainly do not speak lightly of such things to my kind.”

“We’ll take all that we can, Baptiste.” Ana said nodded. “We’ll sift through everything, but anything you can tell us would be very valuable.”

Baptiste nodded, and Jack noticed the demon’s eyes shift from side to side as if to check that there was no one listening in. Was this information really that classified?

“Each society has a hierarchy.” Baptiste began. “You have your president, we have our king and queen, vampires have clan heads, and witches have coven leaders. The list goes on and on.”

“So what do angels have?” Jack asked. “There are so few on this planet, and they’re so tight-lipped that we barely know anything about them.”

For a long minute, the doctor focused on threading his needle. “All I know is that they are referred to as God’s generals,” Baptiste said finally. “His chosen ones: the Archangels.”

~/~/~/~

The soft whir of the centrifuge filled the silence of in the makeshift lab, and in the middle stood a demon clad in a white coat. She read the data that filled the screen in front of her with mismatched eyes, one blue and one red, that narrowed in irritation at the failed results.

“Useless,” she muttered under her breath, raking her bony fingers through her short red hair in frustration. Dr. Moira O’Deorain sank into the chair and massaged her temples. “This is unacceptable.”

The last test subject had broken too early for her to get any useful information. Moira stared at her bony hands and the talon-like fingernails - filed to perfection – that graced them. Her right hand was webbed with violet veins that jutted up from her pasty skin, seething with demonic energy, while the left held a dull glow of gold that shimmered sullenly as if trapped.

Time to try again.

Moira got up from her seat and approached a medical slab where the corpse of her last test subject laid. Lifting her left hand, she summoned a golden beam which she directed towards the body. At first, nothing happened, but then she watched in cautious satisfaction as the wound from where she’d slit the human’s throat started to heal. So far, so good; she held the beam as steady as she could, ignoring the ache that seared her flesh as it healed the human’s.

“Come on, damn you.”

She hissed at the burning pain and struggled to keep the angelic magic that she’d so recently infused her body with flowing out and into the human. The wound had closed, but although the magic kept pouring in, it was having no effect.

Then the corpse’s index finger twitched.

Moira’s eyes widened before blistering pain shot through her whole body, disrupting her concentration and sending her to her knees. Her left arm throbbed painfully as her demonic veins burned from the angelic magic that wasn’t supposed to be there, while her right arm felt like she’d held it in a furnace, but none of that mattered.

“Did it just…?” Moira huffed. She grabbed the edge of the medical table and used it for balance as she struggled up to her feet. “What a discovery!” she stared at her left hand once more before breaking into a cackle. “What a discovery indeed: a demon that can heal! And soon, I will be the first demon to bring the dead back to life!”

She stared up the ceiling with a wide, unholy grin. Slowly, she raised her hands and stared at them before she curled them into talons.

“Do you see that, God? Do you see this power which I have attained all on my own? I don’t need your favor, for I can get it myself!”

A quivering breath of excitement left her lungs, elation combining with the pain to make her feel almost as if she were transcending reality itself.

“Soon, oh, very soon, I will become the first Archdemon and I will rule this realm. And then,” she declared, “I will take _yours_.”

But to achieve that, she needed to put in more work. She was so close… so very close to getting the power she wanted. Right now, the bottleneck was that the angelic power she could use was limited. She needed to be able to use it to a much greater extent, but her body could hold only so much of an angel’s power. She needed to do more research and figure out a way to have unlimited healing power at her fingertips and prolong the beam until it was able to force the dead back to life.

Determination giving her a second wind, Moira grabbed her phone and pressed the number on speed dial. Someone picked up on the other end, and Moira drawled out a greeting.

“Hello, Maximilien. I need another test subject at your soonest convenience.”

“Of course, Dr. O’Deorain.” The voice was smooth and quick to agree. “Have you transferred to a new location?”

Because of course, Moira would have to transfer from place to place to cover her tracks – and her trail. “I’m currently in a safehouse in LA. You can contact me to arrange pick-up at a location convenient to both of us.”

“Ah, that shouldn’t be a problem,” Maximilien replied. “According to my catalogue, there are currently three specimens residing in that city.”

“Good. The one that would take the least time and effort will do, if you please. I need the test subject as soon as you can acquire it.”

Something rustled on the other end. “That would be the…ballet instructor angel.”

“I couldn’t care less what _it_ does for a living,” Moira interjected sharply. “How much?”

“Ten million, Dr. O’Deorain.” Maximilien had learned it was most beneficial to get straight to the point when Moira started to talk price. “Half up front, and the rest when delivery is made.”

“Consider it done.” Satisfaction made the words almost a purr. “I’ll have the money transferred to your account after our call.”

“As always, doctor, thank you for your patronage.”

The line went dead.


	2. The Fourth

**Chapter II: The Fourth**

Despite his intention to get some sleep, it was now ten at night and Jack’s mind was spinning with theories and possibilities. He took a long drag of his cigarette and stared at the conspiracy board on wall of the room he converted into his workspace, something like an office away from the office. Ridiculous but Jack was a workaholic like that.

All the details of the last five murdered angels were pinned on it, each one from a different state with the last one having been dumped in his city. That meant there was a good chance that the killer was in the area, too. Jack wasn’t sure he liked that. He’d called the three angels under his protection and warned them about what happened, cautioning them to be alert and stay indoors as much as possible while the case was still hot.

Lucio, a musician who was a renowned internationally and famous for creating music with healing properties, told Jack that he’d double his security. Satya, an urban architect who specialized in designing eco-friendly buildings, assured Jack that the security in her luxury apartment building was tight since she was neighbors with quite a number of celebrities. Amelie, the ballet teacher, was a bit of a problem. She flew to and from work, and Jack knew there were even days when she used public transportation to go to her studio. She’d told Jack that she knew how to defend herself and that she would call the police if she noticed anything suspicious. It was admirable that she was so brave, but out of the three, she was the easiest target and it would make Jack want to drink except that the worry was tying his stomach into knots. He did _not_ plan on letting any of them get killed.

Jack stared blankly at the pictures and news clippings he’d tacked onto the board. His holopad also displayed snippets of what little information he could find on the internet about Angelic lore and culture. If he was going to get more information about Archangels, he would have to ask one of the angels personally. Satya or Amelie were his choices since Lucio was busy with being in the limelight, but was it possible? Could the suspect really be an Archangel, one of the God’s generals (as Baptiste had put it)? A demon who could heal or an Archangel were the only choices that really made sense, but from what he read on the internet, Archangels were the cream of the crop of angelic society and they had never set foot on earth. But then again, Baptiste had mentioned that demons can’t heal, so was the healing demon even a possibility?

“What is it? Which is it?” Jack muttered, glaring at the board as if expecting to find the answer immediately, but to no avail - it just led to more questions. “Goddamit.”

He stabbed the butt of his cigarette into an ashtray. A distraction. He needed a distraction to burn off all this pent-up frustration and tire his mind out so that he had a chance at passing out for at least _part_ of the night. The idea of getting drunk had been tempting, but he had work in the morning and Genji would make fun of him for coming to work with a hangover. Briefly, he considered picking someone up at the bar, but he wasn’t in the mood for sex.

Finally, Jack decided that to just go for a run. He stalked to his dresser and changed out of his office clothes before pulling out a shirt, a hoodie, and a pair of running shorts. He grabbed his phone, wallet, and keys on his way out, and then he was off.

Once out of his apartment building, he picked a direction and started running after doing brief stretches. Although the first few minutes were random, there was a plan behind it. Jack had the surrounding neighborhoods mapped and kept to a route where the streets were bright, since it would be absolutely dumb to run where he was inviting trouble just by being there. A high-ranking police officer getting mugged? Ana would never let him live it down. He can defend himself, sure, but if he’s running then he’s already got too much frustration to burn off and a potential police brutality case for beating someone’s ass wasn’t any more attractive than getting mugged. Jack ran and ran, the burn in his thigh muscles feeling good and the powerful huffs of breath fogging in the cold night air. Running was how he apologized to his body for smoking: making sure his lungs stayed in shape.

An hour into his route, the wind started to blow in damp gusts and thunder rumbled in the distance. When a distant flash made him look up, Jack saw that dark clouds had rolled in. He didn’t mind jogging in the rain – sometimes – but nighttime wasn’t the best time to do it , and he had too much on his plate with the angel case to even _think_ about catching a cold. He started searching for somewhere to take cover if-

Heavy droplets started to fall from the sky, little muffled impacts that his breathing didn’t quite drown out. Jack broke into a dead run, feet pounding on the path, racing towards the shelter of an outdoor pavilion just a little deeper into the park, and he vaulted up the low steps to stumble to a halt under the pavilion’s roof just as the rain became a downpour. He pulled his hood back and raked his fingers through his damp hair, his breaths coming hard and fast from his exertion, and he leaned against one of the concrete beams with his pulse hammering in his chest. After a minute, he fished his phone out of his pocket and was about to hit the number for his favorite diner to order dinner for pick-up when his screen started to flicker.

Jack frowned; he was sure that he charged his phone before he left the office. Lightning ripped through the sky and thunder cracked immediately after; a deafening roar that made him jump and sent his pulse rocketing again. His skin prickled with the electricity in the air and he found himself edging towards the rain, convinced for some reason that he needed to see the sky. When he reached the edge and peered out into the stormy night, he froze.

The raindrops were suspended in mid-air.

“What… in God’s name…?” Jack muttered, body already moving, and with his phone once again in the pocket of his hoodie he stepped out from the shelter of the pavilion and into the motionless rain. The fat drops clung onto his blonde hair and his clothes when he hit them, but they remained whole and unmoving. Jack reached out, poked a large droplet in front of him, and watched in wonder and extreme confusion as it split into two.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning crawled from one edge of the horizon to the other, luminous branches that seemed to crack the sky in two and hit the ground right in front of him.

Jack found himself flung backwards, sitting on his ass in front of the pavilion, shielding his eyes too late from the blinding light that had made the ground beneath him shudder as the raw power of heaven shot down and only barely hadn’t obliterated him with its might, his ears ringing from a sound that humans were never meant to hear from that close. He cursed under his breath and blinked, then blinked again, shook his head as if to shake away the afterimage, and that’s why it took him a minute to see the angel.

The figure that floated slowly, down through the unmoving raindrops, to alight on the ground as weightlessly as a snowflake was _undeniably_ an angel. With deep brown hair in a sharp undercut and dark skin clad in black and gray Kevlar, the man was handsome. But what took Jack’s breath away were the black wings that spread behind him like the canvas of the night sky, dusted with red and edged with silver. The afterimage faded from Jack’s sight, and when the angel’s boots touched the ground, the rain resumed its downpour and promptly soaked them both.

“Are you alright?” Jack heard the angel say through the ringing in his ears and after he ran his hand down his face to wipe away the water obscuring his vision, he found a gloved hand held out towards him in offering. The man’s sleeveless jacket swayed in the wind and Jack noticed the intricate and detailed tattoo that sheathed his right arm: blood red lilies growing on thorny vines, stark against elegant swirls of black.

“Yeah, th-thanks.” Jack nodded and took the angel’s hand, only to find himself pulled effortlessly to his feet with one strong and solid tug. “You’re… you’re an angel.”

“Obviously.” The other flashed him a quick smile.

Standing face to face, Jack was able to make out the angel’s features: a well-trimmed beard, cheekbones to die for, and dark brown eyes made striking by the silver ringing his irises. Although he hadn’t known an angel – in life – to ever be _ugly,_ the close-up look made Jack almost painfully aware that the man was devilishly good-looking. Of _course_ Jack’s first instinct would be to stare.

“Do you see something you like?” The angel arched a questioning brow at him and Jack looked away, clearing his throat.

“Let’s get out of the rain,” he said. “I know your kind don’t get sick, but I’m not so lucky.”

Jack led the way back under the protection of the pavilion, the angel following silently. He didn’t seem very interested in Jack, disregarding the man in favor of eagerly taking in their surroundings.

“Did you teleport in from another state?” Jack asked warily. “This city isn’t safe for angels right now.”

“I can handle whatever it is this city of yours has to offer,” the angel answered in a dismissive tone, still not looking at him.

Okay, Jack thought, this guy is a cocky asshole. He frowned. “You didn’t answer my question.”

The angel turned to regard him, gaze locked with Jack’s pinning him in place, and slowly closed the distance between them.

Jack held his ground and did not budge, meeting that silver-ringed gaze without flinching.

“I thought you humans were the type to cower in the presence of power.” It was the tone of surprised insolence a king might use the first time a peasant failed to bow and scrape, and a glint in the angel’s eyes made the silver around his irises seem almost molten. “This is the first time I’ve been to your world,” he admitted grudgingly, the words a prize for Jack’s refusal to cower.

Jack’s eyes widened; this guy had come from the angelic realm? No new angel had set foot on Earth since most of them had disappeared almost a century ago, leaving only the guardian angels behind. The angels Jack had charged himself with monitoring had already been living in the city when he was born. The first new angel here on Earth in over a century? This was _huge!_

“You’re staring again, human.” The angel grinned slowly, somehow looming over Jack despite being the same height and holding his gaze with eyes that were ringed in glowing silver. Jack couldn’t look away; it felt like he was being suffocated under the weight of that gaze and all his nerves screamed at him to run because this...this was _not_ how he felt when he was around Lucio or Amelie. Even Satya, who was usually detached and aloof, made him feel at ease but this man was making every muscle in Jack’s body coil tightly, painfully aware that he was in the presence of a greater being.

Too bad for him that Jack had experience standing up to ‘greater beings’.

“Don’t be arrogant,” Jack said evenly through gritted teeth. “I _have_ a name.”

“And that would be?” the angel asked as if he didn’t care in the slightest about the answer.

“Jack.” He replied. He held his voice to sound brave but it still had a gravelly dryness to it when he forced out confidence. “Jack Morrison.”

When the angel tilted his head to the side to study him with a look of interest, Jack noticed a second tattoo on the side of his neck: thin, elegant lines that formed the letters ‘XXIV’. “The name’s Gabriel,” he said, sounding almost surprised to have the words leave his mouth.

Gabriel. _God is my strength._

“Well, Gabriel,” Jack found himself saying, “this city isn’t safe for angels right now. Do you have a place to stay?”

~/~/~/~

_This city isn’t safe for angels right now. Do you have a place to stay?_

It certainly wasn’t what Gabriel had been expecting the human to say and the implications intrigued him. Wasn’t safe for angels? What was happening, how was that possible? And then this human not only refused to cower, but expressed _concern?_

It was laughable that anything in this pitiful human city could actually be a threat to him but Jack was his only source of information so far. So he took the human’s offer of shelter and followed as his host led the way back to his domicile. Neither of them talked; Gabriel because he was busy taking in the sights and Jack because...well, Gabriel had no idea. Nor did he care, really, with so much else to look at and think about. Humans, it seemed, were as drawn to the sky as angels were. They built their domiciles in blocky stone towers, like beehives with a view, and he closed his wings tightly against his back to avoid knocking anything over as he followed Jack into one of them. They passed through a lobby of some sort and entered a stairwell, where the two of them climbed a cramped, square spiral until they reached the level that presumably held the residence unit Jack called ‘home’. After a short trip down a hall, Jack opened a door and ushered his guest inside.

The first thing Gabriel did was to note where the windows and doors were. It was to his advantage that Jack lived high from the ground; he could easily jump out a window and spread his wings, launching himself into a glide without the effort of lifting himself into the air. Exits mapped, Gabriel lowered his gaze to the floor and tapped into his power to activate his glamor spell. His wings shimmered briefly, then faded from his back, and he took amusement at the way Jack’s blue eyes widened.

“Those of my kind that dwell in your realm do not hide their wings?” Gabriel asked, one eyebrow arched.

“They do, but I’ve never seen their wings appear or disappear.” Jack said. “I don’t get to see them all that frequently, but I’m in responsible for making sure they’re protected.”

Interesting. No wonder he had inquired as to Gabriel’s residency. “So you’re a guard of some kind?”

“Sort of.” Jack briefly glanced at Gabriel, but otherwise busied himself with removing the things that cluttered the couch so that Gabriel had somewhere to sit. “I’m the commander of the city police.”

A warrior with rank; how interesting indeed. Gabriel watched this man move around the room until he spoke again.

“Do you want to use the shower first?” Jack came up beside him and motioned at a closed door across a narrow hall. “Maybe wash off all that inter-dimensional dirt from your trip?” Jack paused to size him up. “Hm, we’re about the same build. I have clothes you can borrow until yours dry, since it looks like you didn’t bring anything with you.”

Gabriel’s first thought was that this guy was too trusting, inviting a stranger into his home like this, but he noticed the faint twisted scars on the human’s pale arms and the way those blue eyes assessed their surroundings with practiced attention. This was not naiveté, he reminded himself. Jack had reason to think this city wasn’t safe for angels, and as their protector he had invited Gabriel to stay at his home for the night. Jack was a warrior who held his duty in the highest respect, and he was making the tactical decision to trust that his new charge would not turn on him.

Either that, or he’d realized that if Gabriel _did_ attack him, there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to stop the angel.

“Appreciate it,” Gabriel said with a nod.

Jack gestured at that door again. “Bathroom’s down the hall.”

Gabriel nodded simply and entered the room indicated.

Moments later, after having dematerialized his holy garments, Gabriel stood naked on the tiled floor and stared at the contraption attached to the wall: a metal tube of some sort with a wide disc head poked with holes. He looked for the sensor glass that would activate the water, but found none. There were only two knobs, low on the wall under the tube-disc contraption. Not wanting to break anything in his good host’s home, Gabriel padded back down the hallway and found Jack lounging on the couch, thumbing a sleek, flat device oblivious to his presence.

“Hey, Jack, how do you work the shower?” Gabriel spoke up suddenly, startling his host.

When the human turned, he immediately made a choked sound and flopped off the couch to dive for a piece of clothing on the small table. He chucked it Gabriel, who caught it smoothly with one hand.

“You should cover up.” Jack blurted out, refusing to look at his guest. “Didn’t you see the towels?”

“Towels?” Gabriel frowned for a moment. “Oh, yeah, no. I didn’t.”

“They’re on a small shelf over the toilet.” Jack shook his head. “Never mind. Did you need anything?”

“How do you turn on the water?”

“What?” Jack almost turned to look at him, but averted his eyes again.

“The water, Jack.” Gabriel repeated, getting annoyed with this ‘not looking at him’ thing. “How do you work your baths in this place?”

“Oh, uh, sure, let me show you.” Jack pointed awkwardly at the piece of clothing he’d thrown at Gabriel. “Could you wear that, at least?”

The angel thought it was silly, but did as he was asked. The garment was a long-sleeved white button up shirt, and it mostly fit Gabriel just fine except for being a bit tight around his broad shoulders. It was long enough that it covered him to almost mid-thigh, although the slightest motion caused the flaps of cloth over his genitals to part slightly. He noticed the human’s cheeks flaring red as he realized this, and it made him smirk that humans were so easily flustered by a little nudity...or maybe it was just Jack. Regardless, he followed and nodded as his host demonstrated how to work the knobs and pointed out towels and brought more clothes for Gabriel to change into once he was done washing.

After his shower, he wandered his host’s ‘apartment’ while Jack took a turn washing and emerged in dry clothes. He was about to ask about the threat to angels when there was a knock on the door, but it was just a younger human delivering food that Jack had apparently summoned. The human did have an attitude that made a part of Gabriel want to see him cowed, groveling at his feet and giving him the respect he was due. But on the other hand, he was easy to tease and getting him - with his silly human ideas of modesty - all flustered was an absolute _delight_.

Once they were both fed and comfortable, Gabriel on the couch and Jack on a chair, it was time to find out what was going on that his host was so concerned for his safety. As soon as he asked, any joviality faded from the human’s face.

“Someone’s killing angels,” he said somberly.

Jack didn’t disclose the full details, partially because he didn’t have the details to disclose. He confessed that for all the investigations that had taken place, no one had any leads on the culprit, and he warned Gabriel to be careful. Had he been in Jack’s place, Gabriel thought, he wouldn’t disclose much information either. But he would absolutely know more than he’d let on, and he doubted that a man who took his responsibility so seriously wouldn’t have a private stash of data. He allowed the conversation to move on to other things - the natures and careers of the lesser angels in the city, possible options for Gabriel’s living situation while he was visiting, vague plans for the morning. Soon enough, Jack excused himself to bed and left his guest on the couch with a pillow and blanket.

That night, as Gabriel laid on the couch, staring at the dirty white ceiling, he listened for Jack’s breathing to even out into sleep. He was tired from his journey between realms, but the news of his brethren here being murdered did not sit well with him. It was his duty to protect, and a strong sense of duty was something he and Jack had in common.

Maybe a partnership was due.

Gabriel sat up and pushed back the blanket that he’d been making a token attempt to cover himself with. Moving quietly, he padded through the living room and out into the hall. Shadows danced in the corners from the light that spilled out of the open doorway that had to be his host’s bedroom. Gabriel took a small breath and drew on his power, tendrils of smoke emanating from his form until they engulfed him and he turned into a black wraith. In his shadow form, Gabriel made absolutely no sound as he flowed down the hall and through the open doorway of the room that turned out to be a small office rather than a bedroom. He found his host slumped on a table, head cradled on his folded arms. One part of the wall was covered in articles, photos, and red thread that connected them to each other.

Still a wraith of black smoke, Gabriel floated towards the board and re-solidified to read the details. There were photos of multiple dead bodies, but one of them caught his attention because of the magical circles and runes carved to his body. After a thorough examination, Gabriel’s jaw went taut. These weren’t purely angelic symbols, nor were they wholly infernal. They were hybrid runes, drawn from both angelic and demonic scriptures, invoking the powers of both life and death. There were also words carved on the victim's right bicep: _Dare et accipere_.

Give and take.

Gabriel felt anger simmer inside of him; this poor angel had been a sacrifice. Angels did not die easily, the power inside of them making them hard to kill, so it was a sure bet that this man had suffered at the hands of his killer. Then he read the notes Jack had scribbled on a piece of paper pinned on the board: HEALING DEMON? HUMAN? CRAZY ANGEL? ARCHANGEL?

The word human was crossed out; mostly likely because humans cannot wield magic. The human race was the most lacking when it came to magical abilities but they made up for it with their technology and flare for stubbornness, from what Gabriel had observed so far.

Healing demon? Now, that was new to Gabriel. How would it even work? Then again, demons were notoriously ambitious and he wouldn’t put it past one to try to find a way.

Archangel. That was a funny one; there were only four Archangels in existence, and none of them have ever set foot in this world.

Not until tonight.

~/~/~/~

Morning.

Jack stirred and groaned, both at the crick in his neck and the realization that he’d passed out in the middle of working on the case. At least he’d managed to get a good...what, six hours of sleep? Seven? What time had it been when he had bid the angel good night and-

The angel!

He’d met an _angel_ , one who’d just arrived from his own realm, and brought him home to eat burgers and fries and sleep on his couch. For a long minute he stared blankly at the wall, remembering the raw power Gabriel had exuded. Then his nose wrinkled as someone lit a...fire? Who would be lighting fires in his apartment?

...wait, what was on fire? Where was Gabriel? Something was burning!

Jack ran out of the room and stumbled down the hall, his legs stiff from sleeping in a chair all night. A glance at the living room showed it to be empty of damnably attractive angel, so he lurched into the kitchen and found Gabriel standing by the stove while he stared at a flaming pan with a look of affronted confusion.

“Holy shit!” Jack cried out in alarm and immediately pulled Gabriel aside and away from the flame. He grabbed the basin in the sink, thankful that he hadn’t thrown the dish water out from last night, and remembered to put it back before he dumped it on the pan. Water on a grease fire was just asking for trouble, and he didn’t know what, exactly, was burning. Instead, he lunged for the lid and spent a moment being even _more_ thankful that it was metal instead of glass as he braced himself and slammed it down. The now-hidden fire hissed angrily and muttered as the flames died, acrid smoke seeping out and making him cough.

“What were you doing?!” Jack demanded as he turned on the kitchen fan then strode to the window to let the smoke out.

Gabriel stood there, scratching his head in confusion and guilt, but then that kid-caught-doing-what-he-shouldn’t expression turned into irritation. “Well, I was _trying_ to make our meal, but that contraption decided to incinerate it instead!”

“Oh.” The panic and anger Jack felt died down as quickly as the flames had. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Gabriel huffed and looked away, arms crossed over his chest as if denying the mere thought of vulnerability or expressing fault. The blood-red lilies caught the morning sunlight that poured in through the kitchen window, and Jack wasn’t sure if it was just that he needed coffee, but he thought he saw the flowers _move_. “I didn’t want to disturb you,” he said finally, reluctant to even admit to that much. “You fed me last night, and you clearly care more about keeping my people safe than your own comfort. It’s the least I can do in return.”

Well, he couldn’t fault his guest’s logic. “You came in the room while I was asleep, huh?”

Gabriel nodded somberly.

So much for trying to hide the case, Jack thought with a sigh. Gabriel had probably seen the pictures and the files on the board.

“Maybe,” the angel said slowly, “I can help.”

“With the case?” When Gabriel nodded, Jack raised a brow and asked, “Why would you want to do that? From my understanding, guardian angels are not very fond of violence even in self-defense.”

“You think I’m a guardian angel?” A slow, dark smile graced Gabriel’s lips, something dangerous and wild that caused a primal fear, or maybe excitement, to stir inside Jack. “Well then, Jackie, I think it’s about time we got to know each other a little more.”

Jack opened his mouth to protest being called ‘Jackie’ but only got that far before his guest said three words that blew every thought out of his head.

“I’m an _Archangel_.”

The sense of raw power Gabriel had exuded last night came back to Jack, and he knew the angel was speaking the truth. What twist of fate had sent an _Archangel_ to the man investigating angelic murders, and on the same day the case had dropped in his lap, no less?

“Jackie? Anyone in there? Hello...”

Gabriel’s voice snapped Jack back into the present to discover the angel waving one hand back and forth in front of his face and an irritating smirk on his face.

“Don’t call me that,” Jack snapped, swatting the hand away. “You’re an Archangel.”

“Is there an echo in the room?” Gabriel retorted snidely.

Also known as God’s generals? His right hand? His warlords?”

“Is that what we’re called here?” Gabriel snorted, arms crossed smugly over his chest. “That’s dramatic.”

“Just answer the question, Gabriel.”

The angel lifted one hand to tap his cheek as if debating whether or not to answer. When Jack maintained a stoic silence instead of rising to the bait, he said, “Yes, we’re his lieutenants; we each have a measure of authority - to a certain limit, of course, not surpassing God - but we’re not all warlords. One of us prefers to be a healer, actually. Angela. That woman has the kindest heart among us but can nag your ear off when she gets into a mood. The warlord thing is more of Reinhardt’s forte.”

Jack arched one skeptical eyebrow. “An Archangel named Angela?”

A shit-eating grin bloomed on Gabriel’s face. “Oh, it’s a nickname. She hates it.”

“That’s a dick move,” Jack grumbled, arms crossed. “Calling someone by a nickname they hate.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Tell someone who cares. Now, if you’re going to bother me with questions, at least show me how to make your...” he gestured at the stove “...behave.”

A handful of comments swarmed through Jack’s mind, but when he opened his mouth, what came out was: “Let’s eat out instead.”

~/~/~/~

Jack stared at the steaming mug of coffee in front of him, wondering how this had happened. He was sitting across a corner booth from the Archangel Gabriel, in his favorite diner, after nearly having his apartment set on fire by said Archangel who was now devouring a second stack of pancakes with no signs of slowing down. Even though Gabriel looked completely normal in his human form, he still emitted an aura Jack had only felt from angels - only harder, sharper, and when he put his mind to it, _way_ more powerful. Jack had wondered how an angel could put a predator like Hanzo to shame in the intimidation department, but after this morning’s revelation, it was no longer a mystery and Jack was still in the process of wrapping his head around it.

“So, you mean to tell me,” Jack began slowly as Gabriel shoved big cubes of pancakes into his mouth, “that you’re one of God’s lieutenants, but you’re neither a healer or a warlord?”

“Yep.” Gabriel replied, the word muffled from a mouthful of pancake.

“So then...” Jack continued, leaning on the table in interest, “what do you do?”

Gabriel lowered his fork after taking the last bite of pancake and downed his huge mug of steaming coffee without as so much as flinching. If Jack did that, he’d be sent to the hospital for burning his throat but hell, apparently Gabriel did not give a shit. The other man leaned back against the cushioned backrest of the booth and took his time pouring himself another mug of black coffee from the pot Jack requested to be left on the table so that the waitress didn’t have to come back. Gabriel could feel those blue eyes studying him, waiting for an answer. He wasn’t exactly open about his true title since it tend to have a...negative reaction.

“I’m the uh… what do you people call it?” He scratched his cheek thoughtfully. “I’m in black ops. I prefer to do things quietly, you know? Got a squadron of dedicated angels back at home, good and loyal men and women.”

Jack gave a slow nod at this information. “How many of you are there? The lieutenants,” he clarified, not wanting to throw around the word _Archangel_ in public in case the wrong ears caught it. “I’m not asking how big your squadron is.”

“Just four.” Gabriel answered. “More or less than that would disrupt the power balance of the angelic realm. My turn,” he said, straightening on his seat. “I read what was written on your board. I can assure you that an Archangel would not kill other angels, and one could not have done it anyway since this is the first time one of us has come here.”

“Well, now that we know that, we can remove them as one of the possibilities,” Jack said dryly. But the victim - you saw the pictures? - had signs of healed lacerations as well as the runes carved on him. We were brainstorming who would have the power to both heal and destroy, and one of my men told me that an Archangel could do it.” Jack paused to flash his guest an apologetic grin. “But my guy is a demon, and he heard that from stories, so there’s a lot of room for error. You’re welcome to correct our misunderstandings.”

Gabriel was quiet as he considered what Jack said. “He’s got it close. He’s not wrong, but he’s not exactly right, either. We Archangels are given a small fraction of God’s power, but obviously not enough to overpower him. That means we can give and take life to various extents depending on the balance of our powers. The more of one we can do, the less of the other we can accomplish. Three of us can heal ourselves, and two of those three can heal others, while the last one can’t heal himself at all. In my case, I can only heal myself but not others.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “You mean to tell me,” he demanded in an intense whisper, “that you people could revive the dead?”

A shadow crossed Gabriel’s features and that intense thunderstorm aura from the previous night pinned Jack in place, the silver in the angel’s eyes glowing eerily in the fluorescent light of the diner. “We can, but it’s forbidden. Whoever breaks that rule will be executed by God himself for breaking the balance of life and death. It’s the one thing that’s taboo for all races.”

He let his eyes drop to his empty plate, releasing Jack from the pressure of his aura, and absentmindedly rubbed his chin as he pondered saying something else. Jack sipped coffee to hide his shaken reaction and waited for the angel to make the next move.

“You know,” Gabriel said finally, not looking up, “the runes and magical circles...they’re not completely demonic. There’s some angelic symbols, too, and they look like hybrids taken from the Book of Life and the Book of Death.” He made a motion with his hands to indicate putting two things together. “Someone took the original runes and made an entirely new scripture. They look familiar, but at the same time, completely new.”

“Baptiste said the same thing,” Jack offered quietly. “He recognized some of the runes from demonic funeral rites, but said others were different. So our guess is that it’s either a batshit angel or a batshit demon: someone who has extensive knowledge about angelic and demonic runes.”

Gabriel’s eyes darkened, the silver around his irises glowing dangerously in a reminder of the true power he held. It was terrifying, but at the same time, oddly beautiful. “Could be,” he allowed. “One thing’s for sure, though. It’s not an Archangel.”

“Of course. There are only three angels in this city, and I’m confident that it’s not one of them, either.” Jack said, crossing his arms over his chest. He knew Lucio, Satya, and Amelie, and none of them had the potential, interest, or motive to do something like this. “So that rules out angels entirely, unless it’s someone not from around here.”

“How many demons are living here?” the Archangel asked intently.

Jack blew out a breath of frustration and ran a hand down his face. “A lot.” The thought of trying to track down a demonic serial killer made him yearn for more sleep, but now was not the time for that and the crick in his neck from falling asleep on his desk last night wasn’t helping anything. “There are about five thousand living in the city. We’d need a damn good lead to narrow that down.” He slipped out his phone and thumbed out a text to Ana, asking if she was already awake so he could call. “I want to put you in a protection program.”

Gabriel burst out into laughter that drew curious looks before spitting out, “Excuse me?”

Irritated, Jack narrowed his eyes at him. “There’s someone out there killing your people!” he hissed. “And there are so few of you guys that we to consider you VIPs!”

“I don’t need protecting,” Gabriel said dismissively, rolling his eyes with an arrogant snort. “God’s general, remember? If anything, it’s _you_ who needs to be protected, Jackie.”

“Stop calling me that!” Jack snapped

“I’ll call you whatever the hell I want,” Gabriel shot back. He smirked, but it did not calm the storm in his eyes.

Jack wanted to argue further, but then his phone suddenly rang with Ana’s ringtone.

“I gotta take this,” he muttered.

Without waiting for Gabriel to answer, he stood up and walked out of the diner to take the call outside, where he could discuss the angel without said angel overhearing. The hair on the back of Jack’s neck stood on end as he felt inhuman, silver ringed eyes follow him, but he turned his back and resolutely ignored the sensation.

 _“What happened?”_ Ana demanded as soon as Jack raised the phone to his ear. _“You never call this early unless someone died.”_

“We had a break in the angel case,” he said shortly. “Kind of.”

_“What do you mean, kind of?”_

“I mean we can rule out Archangels,” Jack clarified. “Apparently, there’s only four and three of them have never been to Earth.”

That made Ana pause. _“Who told you that?”_

“The fourth one. He dropped in unexpectedly while I was out running.”

The pause this time was longer. _“Just to be clear, Jack, you’re telling me that we learn about Archangels and within six hours you’ve met the first one to come to Earth in the entire history of the world.”_

“His name is Gabriel,” Jack added helpfully. “I’m taking him shopping today to get him some clothes. Can we stop by for dinner tonight and discuss the case?”

The stream of Arabic cursing that earned him made him smile.

“Is that a yes?”

_“Jack Francis Morrison, if you are pulling my leg I swear I will skin you alive and take your job.”_

“We’ll see you at seven,” he answered cheerfully, and hung up.

Laughing, now that he wasn’t the only one sitting on the insanity that was an Archangel in his city, he went back inside the diner to pay the check and collect his guest.

~/~/~/~

Jack wasn’t the kind of guy who liked to take days off, and in fact had to be reminded to take his vacation days, but he’d called out for today and tomorrow to help Gabriel adjust to the city. They went to a respectable department store in the mall first, with the intent of Gabriel being able to find every type of clothing in one fell swoop, but the angel declared every offering ‘boring’ - among other derogatory comments - and finally Jack snapped that they’d find another store and stormed out, the bemused angel following with a blessed lack of commentary. They were half a dozen storefronts away before there was suddenly a hand on his shoulder, and Jack whipped around to assault his assailant only to discover that Gabriel was staring raptly at the displays in Hot Topic.

“I want to check this store,” he announced, as if he were a lord and Jack his lackey.

The human snorted. “This store? Really?”

Gabriel threw him a look half hurt and half affronted. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s for melodramatic teens.” Jack paused for a beat. “I take it back, it’s perfect for you.”

That earned him a sour look before the angel flounced into the store with a huff and Jack, sighing, picked up a basket as he followed. As Gabriel agonized over choosing one pair of black pants with too many chains and zippers over a pair that were nearly identical, Jack wondered what the angel would wind up doing for sleep wear. Hopefully he didn’t sleep in the buff. That was something he didn’t need to deal with first thing in the morning. He didn’t mind letting Gabriel share his apartment until he found a place of his own, but that did raise the question of what, exactly, the angel was planning to do with his visit.

“Hey, Gabriel,” Jack said as they browsed the assortment of sarcastic and musically-oriented shirts.

The angel stopped to compare two shirts from bands Jack had never heard of. “Hm?”

“How long are you planning to stay here?”

Gabriel lowered the shirts to gave Jack a look. “Already looking forward to getting rid of me, Jackie?”

“No!” Jack blurted, smothering a note of guilt for the part of him that did, in fact, want to have the angel out of his hair. “I didn’t mean it that way! I was just wondering if you’ll settle down here for a while, like the others.”

Gabriel hummed again and went back to what he was doing. “Who knows? Maybe after we solve this case, I’ll travel your world for a bit before I head back to the other side. I just came here because I was curious.” He decided on the gray shirt and threw that in his shopping basket with the rest of his current selections.

“You can stay at my place. _If_ you don’t plan to stay long.” Jack pretended to look at some spiked belts just for something to do.

“Aw,” the Archangel cooed and gave Jack a playful smirk. “Afraid you’ll miss me?”

“You’re an asshole, Gabe,” Jack ground out. The smirk died instantly and a nearby store attendant glanced at them. Jack quickly averted his eyes and lowered his voice. “An arrogant, self-centered asshole, I swear to God.”

“Okay, number one: God already knows I’m an asshole, and there’s nothing he can do about it.” Gabriel held up one finger, then a second one. “And two, I’m not so bad once you get to know me.” His eyes widened and he lunged past Jack to snatch up and hold a black hoodie against his chest, showing off the skull print and big, white, spiky letters that read ‘REAPER’. “How do I look?”

“Like a thirteen year old who hates the world because his favorite band split up,” Jack shot back instantly.

“And you say I’m the asshole,” Gabriel muttered, throwing the hoodie in his basket and stalking away to the cashier.

“That will be $137.86, sir,” the cashier announced once she’d rung up the pile of clothes.

Gabriel frowned. “How much is that in angel gold?”

The teenager manning the register gave him a confused look. “Uh, excuse me, sir?”

“He’s from abroad.” Jack flashed his most charming smile at her as he pulled out his wallet and readied his credit card. “Do you have the chip reader?”

Gabriel watched in bewilderment as Jack paid for his purchases and the cashier put his re-folded clothes in a plastic bag, which she handed to Jack along with a slip of paper. Jack, in turn, handed it to Gabriel while the cashier wished them both a good day.

“What?” Jack asked with false innocence, a shit-eating grin on his face. “I’m not such an asshole once you get to know me, Gabe.”

Then he walked out of the store with Gabriel staring at him, wrestling with the unusual sensation of having the tables turned on him.

~/~/~/~

They went to a bath and body shop - after a brief stop in the mall bathroom for the angel to change into a shirt and pants that weren’t Jack’s - and spent what Jack thought was an obscenely long time there while Gabriel sniffed and contemplated nearly every product in the store. When he’d suggested Gabriel get some toiletries of his own, he’d been thinking a bar of soap...some shampoo...maybe toothpaste. But apparently angelic hygiene was a sacred thing, because Gabriel had laboriously chosen a bar of soap, some body wash, a face cream, and was slowly working his way through the shampoos _and_ conditioners. He seemed to be looking for certain scents, and although he wasn’t taking it out on the store associate helping him, it was clear that he found the (incredibly vast, in Jack’s opinion) selection lacking.

By the time he had finished making his selections and turned expectantly to his host as the sales associate rang them up, it was time for lunch. Jack paid and led his guest to the food court, half expecting that he’d spend half an hour following him from one fast-food place to the next and dreading every disdainful question. It came as a pleasant shock, then, when the angel took one sweeping look around the place and made a beeline for the taco joint.

“Finally,” he muttered as he stopped to survey the menu. “Something your kind hasn’t managed to screw up.”

“Excuse me?” Jack hissed, mindful of all the people around them.

“Tacos,” declared the angel, satisfaction dripping from every letter. “I’ll take a dozen, with extra hot sauce.”

Gritting his teeth, Jack placed their order and paid. They ate at one of the half-table, half-booth tables that circled the dining area, Gabriel sprawled all over the bench crunching on taco after taco and _somehow_ managing to not spill anything on himself. Jack wasn’t sure what was pissing him off more: the superior attitude, or the tacos not dribbling their contents on the smug asshole smirking as he ate them. As they ate, Jack informed Gabriel that they would be having dinner with Ana to discuss the case, and after explaining that she wasn’t his love interest, she was his lieutenant, the angel declared that he needed to shower and cleanse himself ‘properly’ before dinner.

Home they went, with Jack reminding himself that Gabriel was a guest, an ally, and an Archangel and therefore, as much as he wanted to at the moment, he could _not_ wring the angel’s neck.

Later that evening, after Gabriel had anointed himself with every single one of his bath and body products and dressed in his new, melodramatic clothes, they headed out to Ana’s. Jack wasn’t a fan of city driving unless he had a siren, so he called a taxi and then regretted it as he had to spend the entire trip sitting next to an asshole who, infuriatingly, smelled _really, really good._ All those fancy scented products should have left him a tangled assault on the nose, but instead he smelled like Jack imagined the inside of a temple would smell: exotic and spicy with notes of sandalwood and musk, like some expensive incense burning as an offering to long-forgotten gods. It was far too long before the cab finally pulled into Ana’s cozy little neighborhood and they were able to climb out and stand on Ana’s doorstep. The house was no different from the rest of the houses on the street, but it exuded the warmth of a home and a delicious aroma wafted out to them through the windows. Beside him, Gabriel shifted.

Jack rang the bell.

They heard loud footsteps drumming down the stairs, one person managing to sound like half a dozen, before the door opened and they were greeted by a teenager with shoulder-length raven hair. Two side braids framed her face, and when she saw Jack, she opened the door wider.

“Hey, Jack.” She flashed him a broad grin, then her attention shifted to Gabriel and the smile she wore was replaced by a curious look and silence. “Oh, hey.” She cocked her head to the side. “You got a new boyfriend. About time, too.”

Jack wanted to die right there, although whether from the teen’s immediate assumption or the reaction he was sure Gabriel would have, he wasn’t sure. Maybe both. Probably both. He couldn’t even look at Gabriel, too afraid to see his reaction, so gave her a frozen smile that was just shy of being a grimace. “No, Fareeha,” he said in a strangled tone, motioning at his companion. “This is Gabriel. He’s new in town, and he’s an angel.”

After breakfast, Jack and Gabriel had held a tense conversation regarding using the word ‘Archangel’ in public, and agreed to keep that detail under wraps so that it didn’t reach the wrong ears. The only people who knew right now were him and Ana, and if Fareeha found out, it sure wouldn’t be on the front porch.

“Oh, yeah, mom mentioned that. I couldn’t tell because, y’know…” The teenager motioned at her back with a shrug to refer to Gabriel’s concealed wings. She then held out a hand at Gabriel. “I’m Fareeha Amari. Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.” Gabriel reached and shook Fareeha’s hand briskly. “Pardon our intrusion into your home. Jack dragged me here.”

“I did _not!_ ”

Fareeha rolled her eyes at Jack. “Oh, psh, you’re not intruding. Come on in, my mom’s in the kitchen.”

Gabriel stepped over the threshold of the Amari home, followed by Jack, who frowned at Fareeha and jerked his chin at Gabriel’s back while the angel surveyed the house. The teenager merely grinned at him and shrugged.

“Fareeha, darling, don’t torment your poor uncle Jack.” Ana’s voice came out of the kitchen, followed by Ana herself who stepped out into doorway while she wiped her hands with a dish towel. She sized the angel up, examining him from head to toe before approaching. “Hello. You must be Gabriel.”

“And you must be Ana,” Gabriel returned the greeting with a warm smile. “I guess we’ll be working together on this case.”

When Ana glanced at Jack, he gave her a small nod and she turned her attention back to the angel. “It seems we will. But please, let’s not talk about work when we’re all hungry. Dinner is on the table; let’s eat before it gets cold.”

As it turned out, Gabriel did know how to be good company. He told stories about the angelic realm and his adventures while they ate, leaving things vague enough to not reveal to Fareeha what he really was. Then he told them how he’d almost burned down Jack’s apartment that morning, which sent Fareeha into a spiral of laughter.

“Really?” Fareeha grinned. “You know, there was one time when Jack came to babysit me while mom had to pick up my dad at the airport and for some reason, he had this crazy idea of baking cookies to keep me entertained and hopefully tire me out so he could put me to bed early…”

“Fareeha,” Jack warned, “don’t you dare…”

“No, Fareeha, please go on,” Gabriel urged with a grin, and Ana sliced herself another slab of meatloaf while trying to swallow her laughter.

“He left the cookies too long because he got distracted by the home shopping channel,” Fareeha continued gleefully. “Something about a protein shake kit.”

Jack groaned. “It was on sale, for chrissakes.”

“Mom was furious!” The girl continued. “the cookies triggered the fire alarm and the sprinklers. Mom’s tea rack was soaked! She was like-” Fareeha put her hands on her hips and glowered in imitation of her mother. “ _Jack Morrison, if I had known this was going to happen, I would have cut your rope during rappelling class when we were cadets!_ ”

That made Gabriel laugh and, in the most unfair discovery about the angel yet, it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. A warm and musical sound that bubbled out from this rock of a man, this angelic soldier - not soldier, _general_ , who’d been hardened by the centuries and who’s probably seen unspeakable horrors and fought in the bloodiest wars and who was, undeniably, an asshole. How _dare_ this infuriating creature produce a sound that Jack could happily spend the rest of his life listening to? Gabriel’s eyes crinkled at the corners and the silver around his irises twinkled, lighting up his dark eyes, and Jack didn’t realize he was staring at Gabriel until he felt someone kick his foot from under the table. He immediately averted his eyes from the angel and narrowed them at Fareeha, who waggled her eyebrows at him.

“They were all imported from abroad.” Ana sighed, bemoaning her lost tea. “It’s a good thing that the photos were kept in a waterproof storage box.”

“See? Gabriel asked smugly. “You shouldn’t have been so pissed off, Jackie. You’re not much of a cook yourself.”

The nickname made Ana arch an eyebrow and Fareeha almost choked on her iced tea, but neither of them said a word about it.

Jack glowered at him. “Well, I know how to cook now.”

“I _know_ how to cook,” Gabriel shot back defensively. “I just don’t know how your facilities here work.”

“I’ll teach you, okay?” Jack managed to make the promise sound like a threat. “Just to make sure you keep the place in one piece, because I don’t intend to be homeless.”

“Deal.” Gabe agreed.

“Good.”

Fareeha and Ana just glanced knowingly at each other.

“So,” Ana said nonchalantly. “The case. Let’s talk.”


	3. Sky Waltz

**Chapter III: Sky Waltz**

12:30 PM

After discussing the case with Ana but failing to make any headway, Jack had called another taxi to take them home and spent a remarkably humiliating half hour feeling like he was being laughed at by those silver-ringed eyes while he explained and demonstrated the workings of the kitchen. Pleading the need to do at least _some_ work, he’d left the angel enthralled by television and fled to the office without the slightest thought about how Gabriel would get in touch with him in case of an emergency.

That was four hours ago, and once at his desk, the rest of the world had fallen away as he immersed himself in the paperwork of his job. The last things in his ‘to-do’ pile were some reports from another case that Hanzo and Genji were handling. Judging by the written sections, the brothers were nearing the end of it. He set the papers aside, removed his reading glasses, and leaned back against his chair to stretch.

“You should go home, commander.”

When Jack’s eyes snapped to the doorway of his office, it was Hanzo standing there. The vampire already had his leather satchel strapped across his torso, somehow not wrinkling the jacket of his pristine charcoal-gray suit. A single key that had to go to the dark blue Porche parked downstairs dangled from his finger by the keyring.

“Yeah, I’m just...” he motioned at mess of files and his desk. “...gonna finish up what you and your brother turned in, then call it a night.”

Hanzo gave a small nod. “Very well.” He paused, then asked carefully, “How is the angel case going, if I may ask?”

Jack took a deep breath and got to his feet to stretch his joints. His shoulder blades gave a satisfying pop and he let out a tired groan. “Well, the killer hasn’t made a move yet and the angels are an high alert. Fortunately, Ana and I were able to get some information that should be useful in finding the killer.”

“Ah, progress.”

“Slow, but it’s something.” Jack shrugged. He picked up his pack of cigarettes from beside his laptop, where he’d left it.

“It is always a journey of a thousand steps.” Hanzo agreed, taking the indication of a smoking break as his cue to leave. “You will get there as long as you do not stop. Good night, Commander Morrison.”

“Drive safe, Detective Shimada.”

The vampire nodded and left on quiet feet. Vampires rarely made a sound when they moved, which made them the perfect hunters and formidable investigators. Absently, staring at the empty doorway where Hanzo had been, Jack wondered if the vampire had someone waiting at home for him. He and Genji didn’t live together, that much Jack knew. Vampires were creatures who demanded territory and personal space, and to share something like that with another who was not their heart’s betrothed or their children often started fights that could range from mildly destructive to deadly.

Really, Jack thought, why was he wondering the vampire’s personal life? Hanzo Shimada, of all people? He needed to find a new hobby if this sort of speculation was going to become a habit. Jack crossed over to the glass doors that opened onto his small balcony and stepped outside. The night was chilly, and the wind nipped at his skin as it raced along the side of the building. He placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it, taking a long drag and blowing the white smoke into the cold air to be whipped away by the wind.

With the filter between his lips, Jack leaned on the railing and took out his wallet. Protected by a card flap, where most people would have put their license, there was a plastic window containing a worn photo.

Two men stood against a backdrop of cherry blossoms in bloom, both in their mid-twenties. One was fair-skinned and golden-haired, beaming, with his arm around the dark-haired man who had been caught in the act of pressing a smiling kiss to his cheek. Him and Vincent, on their second anniversary, when they’d visited Japan with the full itinerary of beautiful places that Genji had made up for them. It was one of the last times they’d been that happy together, and Jack knew he should take it out of his wallet, but somehow it never happened. A part of him felt like it would be disloyal somehow to the relationship, even though it had been over for years, and anytime he was feeling the lack of intimacy in his life he found himself looking at it as if to remind himself that he’d _had_ that happiness, and he’d let it rot.

“Boo.”

Jack instinctively pulled the small pistol out of the concealed holster at the small of his back and brought it up to aim at-

Gabriel.

He was aiming directly between the angel’s eyes, and his breath shuddered out as he took his finger off the trigger, fighting the adrenaline rush that had sent his heart racing. The Archangel didn’t flinch, that cocky little smirk didn’t even _twitch_ as he hovered there, mid-air, forty stories up just off Jack’s little balcony with the barrel of a gun between his silver-ringed eyes. Damn it all, were humans _that_ pathetic compared to him? Jack lowered the pistol and holstered it again, bracing for the derisive, mocking comment sure to leave the angel’s lips and admiring the magnificent black wings spread wide enough to almost block out the sky even as they made him feel even more small and pathetic. The owner of the wings that looked like they were formed out of the night sky was dressed in chained black pants, spiked black boots, that ridiculous ‘Reaper’ hoodie, and a black knit beanie, and somehow that just made everything more humiliating, being mocked by a general of God dressed like a rebellious teenager.

“What the actual fuck, Gabe?” The words were a tired demand rather than an angry exclamation, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. I could have shot you,” he added, knowing that it probably wouldn’t have hurt the angel if he had.

Gabriel snorted. “You mean with that pea-shooter? I’ve been impaled by a demon spear and lived to tell the tale, Jackie. A child’s toy won’t kill me.”

“Rub it in, why don’t you,” Jack muttered as he closed his wallet and slipped it back into his pocket. “Asshole.”

Jesus fuck, he couldn’t even wallow in self-pity and smoke a cigarette without having his unfairly attractive and utterly infuriating houseguest intrude with his ridiculous outfit and his amazing wings and his temple-incense smell wafting through the night air and blending with the cigarette smoke in a way that somehow made him think of sex and damn, what was _wrong_ with him?

Resolutely, he leaned against the wall of the building, hands in his pockets and eyes shut, and tried to focus on his cigarette and not the angel watching him with those silver-ringed eyes.

His first full day on Earth, Gabriel thought as they rode back from Ana’s, had certainly had its ups and downs. Being thwarted by primitive cooking technology had been a down, as had the utterly bland clothing in the first store they’d gone to. Discovering that human commerce wasn’t equipped to take angel gold had been a blow to his ego nearly equal to Jack calling him _Gabe_. In all his centuries, no one had _dared_ call him by anything less than his full name, but Jack...

Jack didn’t know who he’d demeaned so casually, and Gabriel had the squirmy sensation that even if he knew, he’d do it anyway out of the sheer, stupid, human stubbornness that had driven him to defy the Archangel at their first meeting. Gabriel wasn’t sure how he felt about that, or about the human in general. He was used to lesser beings being cowed by his presence, bowing and scraping in deference for his power and authority. But Jack refused to bow and scrape, even when the angel needled him, and his defiance was...endearing.

Like a small creature who thought it was a large one, he clarified to himself. Not like a potential lover. Even though the human was easily the most attractive specimen of his kind Gabriel had seen, he was still _human_. His lifespan was an eyeblink, the brief flare of a spark leaving the fire, and getting emotionally involved on any level would serve no purpose at all. Still, as Jack patiently explained the workings of the kitchen, he decided the human fell under his protection while he was living on Earth.

It was, as he’d said earlier, the least he could do to repay the man’s hospitality.

Jack showed him how to work the primitive vidscreen and excused himself, saying he had to get some work done at the office, and Gabriel let him go with a pang of guilt that he’d occupied the human’s whole day. So he browsed the channels available, acclimating himself to human culture and learning what was going on in the world, and it wasn’t until nearly three hours had passed that he realized Jack was still gone.

Not a big deal, he told himself. He had no idea how long Jack typically stayed at the office, or how much work had piled up. To distract himself, he explored the contents of the man’s fridge and cabinets and considered possibilities for cooking breakfast without causing a disaster this time.

Then it was four hours since Jack had left, and Gabriel was uncomfortably aware that he had no way of getting in touch with the man. That knowledge sat in his gut like a stone, and he began imagining increasingly-improbable scenarios of injury and mayhem that could leave his host bleeding, broken, enslaved, or dead - and leave the three angels living in this city without their protector. He didn’t even know where the lesser angels lived to be able to take up the mantle of protector should Jack fall. This was careless of him, beyond careless, and he found himself pacing the apartment while trying to plot and plan.

Jack still hadn’t returned. Gabriel didn’t even know where the man worked, where the office was, or how to contact it. Aside from asking random people on the street, he had no idea how to find that information, except...

He _did_ know someone who knew.

The angel was in motion almost before the thought finished, throwing the living-room windows open and diving out into the night, calling on centuries of tracking experience to help him re-trace the path the taxi had taken, bringing them to Ana’s house. How long it took, he couldn’t say, but he eventually found himself on Ana’s doorstep again, the stone in his gut getting heavier as he realized the lights were all out. With a haste that was _not_ being frantic, he circled the small building until he found a room on the second floor with a single, dim light inside. Ana, thankfully, was up late doing...something...on a small device similar to Jack’s. He knocked on the window.

Despite his gnawing concern, Gabriel nearly laughed as Ana fumbled the device in alarm and looked around, his amusement fading at the murderous look on her face when she finally saw him in the window.

Ana stormed over, hauled the lower pane upwards, and hissed, “Gabriel, what the _hell_ are you doing?”

“Looking for Jack,” he admitted reluctantly, arms crossed over his chest.

“Well, he’s not here.”

“I know that,” the angel snapped back. “He went to the office. Said he needed to do some work. What I _don’t_ know is where the office is, and he’s been gone more than four hours.”

“And you’re worried,” sighed Ana. “You’re not the only one. Jack doesn’t get nearly enough sleep, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he passed out at his desk. It wouldn’t be the first time,” she added dryly.

Gabriel frowned. “He fell asleep at his desk at home, last night.”

“Jaaaaack...” Ana dragged her hands down her face. “Okay. Texting will do no good. Calling won’t help. He puts his phone on silent because he knows I won’t stop bothering him until he goes home to sleep. I can give you the station’s address, but I’ll bet twenty dollars you wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

Sheepishly, Gabriel shrugged.

Ana fumbled her device out and prodded it for a minute. “Okay,” she said finally, turning it towards him, “this is what the building looks like.”

On the screen of the device was a picture of a building that didn’t look much different from countless others in this city. Gabriel memorized it anyway, then nodded, and Ana pulled it back.

“And this,” she said, turning it to face him again, “Is how to get there from here. I know it’s not perfect. I can write it down-”

“I’ve got it,” Gabriel announced brusquely, memorizing the net of crooked lines and the thicker one that was his path. “Where in the building is his office?”

He nodded as Ana described the corner office on the fortieth floor, northwest side, with its little balcony. “Bring him home,” Ana pled tiredly. “Make him sleep. I worry about him.”

Gabriel worried about him too, but he wasn’t about to admit that. “I will,” he promised, and then he was spiraling up away from the house, climbing to a height where the streets were lines of light cut through the darkness, forming a map that he could follow.

This high, with nothing separating him from the endless field of night, all the dreariness and petty concerns of the human world fell away and the city was like an enormous jewel, the network of light-limned streets like the glittering edges of each facet. Gabriel had thought that nothing could match the splendor of the angelic realm, but this...this came a close second, and the thought flashed though his head that he understood why Jack devoted himself so unceasingly to its protection.

But Jack couldn’t fly. He had never seen his city like this, had he? That struck Gabriel as a tragedy, something that had to be rectified. He didn’t understand how _any_ race could live without tasting the freedom of the sky, and maybe only showing Jack this amazing sight once would be worse than if he’d never seen it at all, but...he deserved to see it. To experience it, to experience _this,_ the freedom that defined Gabriel’s entire existence. To see the human world through the eyes of an angel. He’d appreciate that, right? Make him close to his charges, to Gabriel’s people. He worked himself to the bone for them; he deserved to see his city as they did, right?

Gabriel began picking his way along those glimmering lines, tracing the path from Ana’s to where Jack was, imagining the man slumped over his desk at work the way he’d been slumped over at his home desk. He did this, Ana said. More than once. He worked himself to exhaustion, and there was no sign of anyone having lived in his apartment with him. Was the man’s devotion to his work that all-encompassing, or was his life empty enough that his work was all he had? That made the angel frown as he flew. He’d been in a park when they’d met, but it was late and dark, so he couldn’t have been there for fun. The park had been quite a distance from his apartment building, so what had Jack been doing there? He hadn’t eaten, either, and that made Gabriel frown harder. He hadn’t thought a lot about his host’s personal life, but the picture that he was piecing together now wasn’t a happy one.

And he’d been an asshole.

At the time, he’d thought Jack was just giving as good as he was getting, but now he had the uncomfortable suspicion that the man had been genuinely upset. A tired man who poured himself into his work and taken a stranger into his home, only to have that stranger insult his people, his city, his taste in clothes, and himself personally. On top of that, he’d paid for Gabriel’s food and his clothes and the angel had no frame of reference for how much any of that had cost in relation to how much the man made. He’d thought himself so noble, declaring the human under his protection, but all he’d been was a burden.

Unacceptable.

Ignoring the beauty of the night, Gabriel flew faster, an angel on a mission where that mission was finding his host and repaying some portion of the debt he’d racked up. It didn’t take much longer before he found the building Ana had shown him, and he hovered as he counted floors. Then it was just a matter of circling the building to find Jack’s office.

As it turned out, it was incredibly easy to find the right balcony because there was a golden-haired human on it, a cigarette between his lips, staring intently but sadly at something in his hands. So intently, as a matter of fact, that he didn’t see the Archangel swooping up to hover an arm’s length away. He looked, Gabriel thought, like he was mourning the dead.

“Boo,” he said, smirking in anticipation of a startle reaction as amusing as Ana’s had been. What he got instead was the reaction of a trained warrior, bringing out a firearm from a concealed holster and training it unerringly between the eyes of his potential assailant. The only reason Gabriel’s expression didn’t change is because he’d already steeled himself to not flinch, but this wasn’t the reaction he wanted to elicit. The iron determination on the human’s face faded when he realized who he was aiming at, but it faded into defeat and exhaustion that sunk tiny claws of guilt into the angel.

“What the actual fuck, Gabe?” Jack demanded tiredly, like he didn’t have the energy to actually care about the answer. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. I could have shot you.”

The shortening of his name combined with the absurdity of being harmed by a pathetic human weapon made him snort. “You mean that pea-shooter? I’ve been impaled by a demon spear and lived to tell the tale, Jackie. A child’s toy won’t kill me.”

He realized as the words left his mouth that it was the wrong thing to say, Jack’s expression slipping even further into despair as he muttered, “Rub it in, why don’t you. Asshole.”

Okay, he deserved that for making a bigger mess of the situation than it already was. Gabriel opened his mouth to apologize, but the human wasn’t looking. He was standing slumped against the wall, eyes closed as if that was the last bastion of privacy left to him. Some tactical genius he was; couldn’t even talk to a pretty human without making the poor thing miserable. Gabriel perched on the balcony’s railing, crouching so that he didn’t loom with his wings half-mantled for balance. For several seconds, he considered his next words and schooled his tone into something gentle.

“What were you looking at?”

“Picture of me’n Vincent,” Jack answered with a sigh, not bothering to open his eyes.

“Vincent. A lover?” Gabriel asked carefully.

Jack shrugged. “Used to be.”

Gabriel winced. “Touchy subject?”

“No, it’s fine. We broke it off a long time ago.” Jack opened his eyes, taking in the angel perched on his little balcony. “It was great but we just didn’t work out.” He cocked his head to the side curiously. “How did you find me?”

Not wanting to admit that he’d asked Ana out of concern, he let his gaze drift up into the sky. “The moon is high and the night is deep,” he said softly, “but you weren’t back yet.” Gabriel grinned charmingly - at least, he _hoped_ it was charming and not smug. “I got bored and decided to stretch my wings. Explore the city from above. But then I spotted a head of spun gold and swooped in to take a look.”

Jack arched an eyebrow at him, casting doubt on every word he’d said. Gabriel looked away.

“What?” he muttered, resisting the urge to cross his arms because his balance was good, but he _was_ perched on a thin railing forty stories up. “Your hair is so bright that it was practically a beacon with the way the moonlight shines on it. It’s not like I went out to look for you on purpose,” he lied. Shit. Was he fucking this up again?

There was a pause where Jack seemed to be considering whether or not to call bullshit. “There’s a killer on the loose, Gabe.”

“And if they’re dumb enough to attack me, they won’t live to regret it,” Gabriel shot back, irritated both with the nickname and himself for allowing it to get to him that badly.

Jack clearly didn’t believe him. “Your arrogance is going to bite you in the ass one of these days,” he predicted flatly. Gabriel shot to his feet, mouth open to protest, but Jack had turned away and was heading towards his office. “Let me go pack up my stuff and I’ll sign a cruiser out. You can fly back, or wait and ride with me. Your choice.”

Shit. That was his window of opportunity closing right before his eyes. He had to act fast. Crouching and hopping down in the same motion, he reached out _not_ to grab Jack by the arm but just to touch his shoulder.

“Wait.”

Jack stopped and turned to look at him.

Gabriel swallowed.

As he turned towards his office, Jack felt a gentle touch on his shoulder, the first time he’d been in physical contact with the angel since he’d been helped to his feet the night before.

“Wait”

That one word pulled him around to face Gabriel, standing much closer than he’d expected, closer enough that he could feel the heat of the other man’s body, sliding down his spine and pooling in his stomach as he took in the brief look of terror that brought back memories of Vincent bracing himself to ask Jack out. This wasn’t Vincent, he reminded himself firmly. This was an Archangel, a being of immense power who had been a pain in his ass for the last twenty-four hours. But his inhuman eyes caught the moonlight, silver rings seeming to turn slowly around the soft brown of his irises, and Jack noticed scars on his cheek where _something_ had gotten too close for comfort. They made the angel look rougher even as the vulnerable expression made him seem younger than Jack, and he wondered how much of being an asshole was a front to keep people at a safe distance.

Gabriel broke eye contact first, glancing away and pulling his hand back to scratch the back of his head. Jack caught a faint murmur that sounded like ‘how do I start?’ Before Gabriel looked back up and took a deep breath. “Look,” he began in the sort of tone people used when they were laying all their metaphoric cards on the table. “You’ve been nothing but kind to me since I got here, even when I was being an asshole to you. You invited me into your home and bent over backwards accommodating me, and I repaid you by acting like a dick. I want to change that. Make some of it up to you.”

Jack didn’t want to a _gree_ with the angel, even if he was absolutely right, but he wasn’t going to just brush it off either because...he was _right_. Instead, he arched one eyebrow and tried not to sound skeptical as he asked, “And how would you do that?”

“I can show you a good time,” he answered immediately, then grimaced as he realized how that sounded and gestured to the open air off the balcony. “The best view of the city, Jack.”

Jack. Not Jackie. Gabriel was being sincere in his implied apology.

When he made no answer, the angel hopped back up onto the railing with the grace of a panther and crouched, wings spread, one hand held out towards Jack.

“You mean...?” Jack’s eyes widened and he found himself moving towards the angel, reaching for that outstretched hand.

“I mean it,” Gabriel promised, grinning, hand still held out. “If you want to, that is.”

Flying. Even if it wasn’t under his own power, it was still _flying._ The thought of Gabriel’s offer made him breathless because of all the things that set angels apart from humans, that was the one that had always caught his imagination. The grace, the exhilaration, the _freedom_.

Jack swallowed. “I’m…not saying no.”

“You can trust me,” Gabriel urged, eyebrows drawn together as if he were afraid Jack didn’t. “I swear on my holy blade I won’t let you fall.”

Something wild and giddy rose up inside Jack, his heart pounding, a strange warmth fluttering in his chest when he laid his hand in the angel’s and felt that holy aura tingle along his skin. “You wouldn’t dare,” he said in challenge, swallowing both laughter and terror as Gabriel lifted him up to stand on the railing with a forty-story drop below him. “I’m too pretty for you to let me die.”

The Archangel wrapped his other arm around Jack’s waist, tight and reassuring as a steel safety bar on a roller coaster, holding him to his chest. “Now you’re getting cocky,” he teased, his voice a low purr that did bad things to Jack’s adrenaline-soaked body.

Before Jack could think of a retort, Gabriel shifted and they were falling, plummeting head-first towards the street below. Jack screamed, arms locked around the angel’s neck, as the asphalt and concrete rushed towards them.

“Ga-!”

Those magnificent wings snapped open and then as fast as they’d gone down, they were going _up,_ spiraling into the Los Angeles sky with each powerful, silver-tipped beat of the Archangel’s ebony wings. The sounds of the city fell away, traffic fading into Jack’s pulse in his ears, his own breathing, and the slow, heavy sound of Gabriel’s wings holding them in mid-air.

Below them, the city spread out like diamonds scattered on black velvet, a million tiny lights painting the world in sparkling gold. The bay’s waters stretched from the lit piers into the inky expanse of the sea, rippling with silver moonlight, and it stole the words out of Jack’s head. Everything looked so distant, so peaceful, like he had stepped out of time and left everything behind, even his problems. For an endless, breathless minute they hung there in silence broken only by the sounds they made, until the wonder faded enough for Jack to find words again.

“Not bad,” he said, feeling stupid for understating the view so badly.

Gabriel laughed, a soft chuckle as warm as his breath against Jack’s ear, making him shiver with something that had nothing to do with the cold night air. “Right? I told you: the best view of the city.”

Jack nodded. “It’s beautiful up here.”

The silence stretched, but Jack didn’t mind. He just absorbed the glorious sight of his city, seen from an angel’s perspective - and the magnificent wings on Gabriel’s back.

“I’ve seen a more beautiful sight than this,” Gabriel said quietly, “but only one.”

Jack turned to ask what that one was, only to find himself snared by the molten silver in Gabriel’s eyes. They stared at each other, something thick and electric in the air between them, and Jack wondered if Archangels had a predator gaze the way vampires did. Then a mischievous glint lit up Gabriel’s eyes and his lips twitched into a small smirk that Jack found himself returning in playful challenge.

“Are you ready?” Gabriel asked.

Ready for what, Jack neither knew nor cared. “Show me what you can do with those wings, Archangel.”

The smirk grew into a full-blown grin and Jack felt his pulse race as the angel adjusted his grip, pulling him closer. He leaned in and with his lips nearly brushing Jack’s ear, murmured, “You better not regret asking me to do that.”

Jack opened his mouth to ask what he meant, but hen he was falling and the words caught in his throat, hands stretched frantically towards the angel who quickly shrank into a speck in the distance, lost in the darkness of the night sky as he plummeted towards the city far below.

_I won’t let you fall._

Trusting Gabriel to keep his word while the world sped past him was the hardest thing Jack had ever done.

Then a speck appeared on the silver disk of the full moon, a speck that grew into the shape of the Archangel diving after him, eyes glowing like silver sparks, and if he’d had any breath in his lungs it would have been driven out by the impact of slamming into that broad, hoodie-covered chest, angelic strength crushing him against the angel as his fall turned into a horizontal motion. The air tore at them so sharply that Jack was glad his face was pressed against melodramatic white letters spelling REAPER because he was certain his eyes would be torn out of his head. It was a small eternity before he remembered how his lungs worked, and he sucked in a lungful of air that smelled of temple incense and his own cigarettes.

“Fuck you!” Jack yelled into Gabriel’s chest, barely able to hear his own words and unsure if the angel had heard them at all, but the booming laughter that vibrated against his ears assured him he had.

“Do you regret asking that now?”

“No!”

Their journey through the night gained torque as Gabriel did a barrel roll, then another, and finally spun them like a drill with his wings clamped tight around them, the red flecks glittering like tiny rubies, Jack feeling oddly safe in his feathery tunnel of chrome-edged obsidian. Then they spread open and they were climbing again, wings beating like the thrum of a giant heart, lifting them higher and higher into the air until Jack felt like he could reach out and touch the moon.

Down there, on the ground, life was congested. Polluted. The city was choked with crime and the other problems that came with so many people packed so densely into one space, and his days were so hectic that he didn’t have the time or energy to properly run from his problems, let alone deal with them. But up here, it was quiet. There was nothing but the wind and the moon, and he was alone in the middle of the sky with an Archangel.

He was free.

“Whatcha thinking?” Gabriel asked lazily as they flew over the ocean, the bay and the city receding in the distance.

Jack shifted until he could rest his chin on the angel’s shoulder. “Just how nice it is out here.”

Carefully, Gabriel turned him in his arms until his back was pressed against that broad chest and they were practically cheek to cheek. Then he tilted his wings and began a shallow dive towards the inky swells of the sea, moonlight painting them with streaks of silver. “Go on,” he murmured encouragingly.

But Jack couldn’t; the rippling moonbeams on the water entranced him as they sank lower and lower, and finally he reached out to touch one. The sea licked at his fingers, the water parting in their wake, leaving a split trail of black and silver widening behind them. He felt so relaxed - more relaxed than he’d been in years - that he could almost believe this was a dream except that the seawater felt like ice on his fingertips. Apparently the peace had seduced Gabriel as well, because he didn’t repeat his encouragement.

Together, they flew on in silence, marveling at the night.

Jack couldn’t say when they turned back toward the shore, watching the glimmer of the city grow larger until they were gliding above the network of streets painted in light, banking as Gabriel followed some path only he knew. He didn’t ask how the angel managed to identify his apartment building from the air. Thankfully, there was a swimming pool on the roof (that Jack had never used) and plenty of room for Gabriel to land, which he did with a thunderous beating of his wings before lightly dropping the last few inches. Jack thought he was fine to stand on his own, but as soon as the angel’s arms loosened, his knees buckled and Gabriel caught him before he managed to fall.

“Careful,” he murmured into Jack’s ear. “Take a minute to let it come back.”

“Thanks,” Jack murmured back, clinging to the strong arms which had supported his not-insignificant weight for so long without effort. “You were right,” he said after a pause to consider his words. “You’re not so bad now that I’ve gotten to know you.”

The Archangel chuckled. “Thanks. Also, I told you so.”

Jack laughed. It felt...good. When was the last time he’d actually laughed?

It was another minute before his legs felt like they’d hold him, and he tapped Gabriel’s arm to indicate that he could stand on his own.

“This was nice,” he said as he led the way to the door. “I haven’t felt that relaxed in longer than I want to think about, especially lately. The angel case...”

“Don’t think about it,” Gabriel said firmly, holding the door as Jack opened it. His wings were gone again, and that sent a pang of regret through Jack. “Think about the flight. Get some sleep. Enjoy the moment, where you’re relaxed; work will still be there in the morning.”

Jack nodded, unsure what else to say, and in silence they walked to the elevators. He’d gone from being annoyed by the angel’s very existence to feeling comfortable in his arms, and what do you say to a man you’ve known just over twenty-four hours who’s taken you on such an extreme emotional journey in that short time?

“I’m going to hit the sack,” Jack said as he unlocked the apartment door. When he glanced at his guest, however, the shine had gone out of the angel’s eyes. “Gabe?” he asked, concern warring with the exhaustion that was creeping up on him. “Something wrong?”

The angel shook his head. “Huh? No, it’s nothing. I’m fine. You, on the other hand, look like shit so you should go to bed.” He made shooing motions, ushering them both inside. “I’m not tired, so I’m going to just...do angel stuff.”

Jack gave him a skeptical look. He seemed to be doing that a lot.

“Archangel things,” Gabriel clarified, not meeting Jack’s eyes. “It’s classified.” 

“Just don’t set anything on fire,” Jack sighed. He did not have the mental energy to argue with an Archangel. “Again. Or kill anyone in the apartment.”

“Got it,” the angel said briskly. “Toss intruders out the window or kill them in the hall.”

Tired as he was, that made Jack laugh and the light returned to Gabriel’s eyes as he joined in with a quiet chuckle.

“Thanks for tonight, Gabe,” Jack said as the laughter faded. Then he yawned. “G’night.”

He was almost to his bedroom door when Gabriel spoke again, three quiet words with all the warmth of his arms.

“Good night, Jack.”

~/~/~/~

While his host slept, Gabriel plotted.

The brief period of time he’d spent watching the news was enough to convince him that Angela had been right: Earth was a wasteland riddled with crime. Humans killed each other for any and all reasons, hurt each other in countless ways, and indulged in vices that would make a demon blush. But they also banded together and were kind. They supported the vulnerable and protected the weak. They welcomed and accommodated the other races sharing their world and Gabriel’s impression was that although a total meltdown wasn’t far off, the silent majority was doing their small part to push it back. Hope was a stubborn flame in their hearts - not like a candle warding off the darkness, but one held threateningly over oil-soaked wood and dry straw. For all that humans seemed to be weak, when pushed too hard they rallied in defiance and that hope became determination to make the world a better place, or die trying.

Jack was a prime example of that, and he had single-handedly made Gabriel understand why the lesser angels chose to stay despite all the hardships and flaws that came with living here.

It was humbling, having the human go from being so stressed out that he seemed ready to break to nearly falling asleep in the Archangel’s arms as they flew over the city. _Especially_ after the drop-and-catch stunt. It wasn’t the first time he’d flown while carrying someone, but it was the first time that someone hadn’t been one of his angels, too wounded to fly. Hearing Jack call him ‘Gabe’ still ruffled his feathers, but it was an indication that the human’s defiant spark hadn’t died out, and Gabriel found that more reassuring than he’d expected.

Damn it, he was getting emotionally attached. In the morning, he decided, he’d see about making himself self-sufficient. Get a place of his own, let Jack have his apartment back, take their relationship to two people working on the same case. Get out of the human’s hair. Keep enough distance that he didn’t drive the human out of his own home in order to get some peace and quiet.

Keep enough distance that it wouldn’t hurt so much when the stubborn, defiant human inevitably died.

~/~/~/~

When he woke up, it was to the scents of coffee, eggs, and bacon. Jack was in the kitchen, looking much more refreshed and cooking them breakfast. A small mountain of toast sat on a plate on the little table in the corner, along with the butter dish and a jar of strawberry jam. Mugs of coffee and glasses of juice sat at each of the two places already set.

“Figured you’d be hungry after all that flying last night,” Jack said as Gabriel drifted into the kitchen. “I thought that after breakfast, we could discuss your living and security arrangements.”

“So you _do_ want me to move out,” joked the angel as he helped himself to toast and sat.

Jack frowned at him over one shoulder. “Of course not. But the city’s angelic safety protocols are very specific. We need to know where you‘re living, and that you’re protected.”

“You know where I’m living,” Gabriel shot back.

“You need to be protected, Gabriel! Archangel or no,” he finished lamely.

He frowned at his host. “Are you saying you’re not capable of protecting me in the event that I can’t protect myself?”

“Of course I can!”

“Then why would I settle for less?” Gabriel asked in a challenging way.

Jack sighed and piled eggs and bacon onto each of their plates, and only then did Gabriel realize he’d argued himself into staying in the human’s home.

“If I’m intruding,” he said quietly, not looking up from his plate, “you can tell me to move out.”

“You’re not intruding,” Jack protested immediately.

Great, now he couldn’t find a place of his own and move out without offending his host.

“We still need to discuss your security arrangements,” Jack said after a long minute full of awkward silence. “You need a phone and a source of funds in case of emergencies. And we should go grocery shopping; take-out is great, but it’s expensive in the long run.”

More expenses that Jack would shoulder, putting Gabriel deeper into the human’s debt.

“Since angel gold is apparently not in use in this city,” he said sourly, “tell me about human money.”

While they ate, Jack outlined the concepts of banks and cards, both credit and debit. It seemed overly convoluted to Gabriel, but for a species without magic, he supposed it was as good as it needed to be. The human explained phones next, both ‘dumb’ and ‘smart’, and all the things they could be used for. Smartphones were infinitely more useful, Gabriel thought, but the expense - and Jack had to explain what fraction of his income one would cost - was something he didn’t want his host to shoulder. But at the same time, he didn’t want Jack to buy him a more primitive device when he’d just be replacing it.

“And I’ll need to spend a couple hours in the office again this evening to make sure the paperwork doesn’t spiral out of control,” Jack finished.

“And let you fall asleep at your desk there the way you did here?” Gabriel snorted. “Shopping can be done in the evening. Go catch up on work, if that’s what you need to do. I’ll be okay by myself.”

Jack frowned at him. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“Gabriel...”

“That’s my name, Jackie.”

The human scowled, and he smothered a wince. How was it that he could charm a demon royal without blinking, but he kept saying the wrong things to a human whose morals and tenacity he admired?

Jack sighed. “Fine. I’ll go into the office today, but I’ll be back by five. Barring any emergencies,” he amended.

“So if you’re not back by six, I’ll come looking for you.” Gabriel shrugged.

That earned him a sigh, but no further argument or protest. When Jack left for work, he handed Gabriel a scrap of paper with a series of digits on it and a small, plastic card.

“That’s my number,” he told the angel, “and that’s my debit card in case you need anything. The second number is the front desk at the station; if I’m not answering, call that one and they’ll put you through to me or tell you where I am.”

“Got it,” Gabriel said with a nod, accepting both paper and card. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

Sighing again, Jack left.

Gabriel showered and anointed himself with all the products Jack had purchased for him the day before, dressed himself in his new, human finery, and left to find the bank whose name was emblazoned on his host’s debit card.

~/~/~/~

“Gabriel?” The man in a suit smiled and gestured him into a small, glass-fronted office. “Welcome. How can we help you today?”

“I’d like to open an account,” Gabriel answered crisply. “I’m new to your realm and angel gold is much less convenient than a debit card.” He held up Jack’s card to make the point, and held it out when the man - Mr. Jacob Westfield, his name plate declared him - indicated that he would like to see it.

“And is Mr. Morrison aware that you have his card?” The man gave him a disapproving look.

Gabriel frowned. “Yes.”

“You expect me to believe _you’re_ an angel?”

“I _am_ an angel.”

Westfield sneered. “You’re a punk with a stolen debit card, and I’m calling security.”

Gabriel snatched Jack’s card back, manifesting his wings and his holy garments in the same breath. Westfield’s complexion turned a sick, pale color and he began to shake, babbling apologies, but the Archangel stormed out of his small office. Every eye in the bank - customers in line, tellers serving them, customers waiting to speak to someone like Westfield, and the suited men and women in glass-fronted offices - turned to stare at him.

“I would like to open an account,” he declared in a ringing voice, the same voice he used to issue commands to his angels. “But not with this man. Who will assist me?”

“I would be honored.” The woman who had spoken stood boldly in the door to her glass office, her skin a rich mahogany and her dark hair an artful waterfall of curls. “Please, allow me.”

Gabriel threw Westfield a smirk and sauntered into the woman’s office. It took a shorter time than he had expected to bring in an officer who verified the authenticity of his angel gold, and in less than an hour he was striding imperiously out with a debit card of his own - and the business card of one Lauryn Singh, the lady who had fearlessly taken responsibility for his patronage and would no doubt be climbing the ranks at that financial institution after today. She’d also suggested his next stops and called a taxi for him.

Debit card in hand and wings again hidden, Gabriel directed the taxi driver to the first place on his list and pondered how petty humans were that they judged others by their clothes. But if those were the rules of the game, then he was determined to win. He would enhance his wardrobe with an expensive suit or three, and save the spiked-and-chained clothing for more casual outings. Maybe he would go back to the mall and buy some of the boring clothes from the store Jack had taken him to yesterday. He should have trusted the man to know which garments were broadly accepted instead of mocking their aesthetic. 

While the tailor was altering his new suits to fit better, he discussed smartphones with the receptionist. A second taxi took him (now smartly dressed in a suit that, he had to admit, looked _amazing_ on him even if it wasn’t his personal aesthetic) and his bag of two neatly-folded suits and the clothes he’d been wearing before to what was apparently a cell phone store. A sales clerk fairly materialized beside him as he stepped inside, and in less than half an hour he was entering Jack’s number as the first contact on his brand new smartphone.

Rather than keep carrying what was becoming an annoying amount of stuff, he went back to Jack’s apartment and hung his suits in the coat closet. He considered what to wear for a very long minute before reluctantly borrowing one of his host’s shirts and a pair of jeans, reasoning that he was going undercover on a personal mission. The rest of the morning and a good chunk of the afternoon was spent in the mall, trying on and buying clothes that would let him blend in and methodically trying every single new food he came across - pretzel dogs, smoothies, cookie cups, boba tea, frozen yogurt, and lemonade. He thought about buying groceries as well, but didn’t know what Jack liked and didn’t want to offend his host. In the end, he just bought the human a shirt that read ‘I tolerate you’ inside a crudely-scrawled heart and caught a taxi back to the apartment.

He’d timed things just right; it was 4:55 when he stepped out of the elevator with his bags and sauntered down the hall to the correct door, which was...open?

Jack was standing in the living room, waiting.

Shit.

“Gabriel-”

“I’m fine!”

“-where were you? I-”

“I told you, I’d be fine!”

“-was worried,” Jack finished.

_Shit_.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” Gabriel muttered, eyes down, digging through his bags. “Got myself a phone and some clothes.”

Jack sat on the couch, massaging his temples with both hands.

“I didn’t spend your money,” the angel said defensively. “Here, you can have your card back.”

His host didn’t even look up as he accepted the debit card.

Gabriel held out the tee-shirt. “I got you this.”

Jack didn’t move. “I was worried,” he repeated quietly. “There’s a serial killer on the loose hunting angels, and the only angel in the city who’s not under surveillance right now disappears out of my apartment.”

“Jackie...Jack,” Gabriel corrected himself, “I told you I’d be fine. I’m more than a match for anyone dumb enough to try to kill me.”

He kept his tone light and confident, hoping some of it would seep into the human and reassure him, but Jack just crossed his arms on his knees and let his head drop.

It was unfairly effective, and Gabriel set his bags on the floor to sit next to his host.

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” he said quietly. “I won’t do it again. And I have a phone now, so you can call me to make sure I’m okay.” He patted the human’s shoulder awkwardly, and was taken by surprise when Jack straightened up briefly, only to lay his head on the angel’s shoulder.

Gabriel froze, unsure of what exactly was happening. A minute passed in silence.

“You’re wearing my clothes,” Jack said quietly, with no emotion behind the words.

None of the things he could think of to say to that sounded right in his head. “Jack,” Gabriel said slowly, “are you okay?”

“No.”

Gabriel’s heart sank.

“You’re an asshole, but I would still be devastated if something happened to you,” Jack continued in a voice that sounded too tired to be angry.

“I know I am.” Gabriel swallowed. “That’s why, when I saw this shirt, I thought it was perfect for you.”

Moving carefully so as to not disrupt the human leaning against him, he unfurled the shirt and draped it over his other arm so Jack could see the I TOLERATE YOU in its shitty heart. Then he held his breath, waiting for Jack’s reaction.

“Heh.”

It was less than a breath of a laugh; the sound uttered as a word rather than an expression of emotional reaction, but it still sent elation through Gabriel’s body. He hadn’t broken his human after all; Jack was still able to see the humor in the situation even if he was too emotionally drained to be amused.

“Why are you wearing my clothes?” Jack asked after a minute.

Gabriel grinned. “Well, the guy at the bank thought I’d stolen your debit card, so I figured I may as well steal your clothes, too.”

Jack buried his face in the angel’s shoulder and laughed tiredly, and Gabriel thought it may have been the most beautiful sound he’d heard in this realm.

~/~/~/~

After the panic that was coming back to his apartment being unlocked and his angelic guest being gone, only to discover that the asshole had just been wandering around in public by himself, Jack had dreaded the idea of going food shopping. Gabriel seemed genuinely apologetic about having worried him, even if he didn’t appreciate the danger in what he’d done, and Jack found the energy somewhere to deal with taking him to the supermarket. They had a long, rambling discussion about food and preparing it, filling a cart as they went with everything ranging from fresh meat and veggies to frozen dinners. Jack had no doubt the cashier thought they were a couple as she scanned and bagged their purchases, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It was dinnertime on a Thursday night and he had work in the morning, but damn if he wasn’t going to try some of the craft beers Gabriel insisted on buying because he wanted to try them. When the cashier announced their total, Jack winced, but as he was reaching for his wallet Gabriel slid past him and inserted a debit card of his own into the card reader.

The smug little smirk he aimed at Jack somehow managed to make him feel better, and he wasn’t sure why.

By the time they’d hauled all the bags of groceries up to the apartment and put them away, Jack was too hungry to cook and too tired to care that Gabriel was using the stove, but all he did was heat up a skillet meal and dump it into paper bowls. They ate, they worked through a six-pack of craft beer that was actually pretty good, and then things got fuzzy and Jack woke up the next morning, in his bed, feeling like he might just be strong enough to face going to work and trusting his guest to not give him another panic attack during the day.

Gabriel promised that he would not leave the building without informing Jack _and_ getting acknowledgment back first, which he found reassuring in its attention to detail, and with the angel washing the breakfast dishes he ventured out to the station.

“There is a new scent to your clothes, Commander,” Hanzo remarked as Jack strode past. “A... _houseguest_ , perhaps?”

Ana covered a smirk, and Jack decided...why not?

“As a matter of fact,” he announced crisply, “I’ve brought in a specialist from out of town to help us on the angel case, and he’s staying with me for the time being.”

Hanzo perked up. Across from him, Genji perked up. Ana sat up straighter, doing her best to look like she wasn’t trying not to laugh, and Lena clapped in excitement.

“When do we get to meet him?” chirped the fairy, and the others nodded in agreement.

Jack regretted opening his mouth.

“I have to consult with him,” he said vaguely. “I’ll keep you informed.”

A frantic conversation over text followed, wherein Gabriel assured him that he could be there by noon looking presentable and Jack agreed to have lunch delivered from a nearby deli. It took an effort to focus on the paperwork that usually had his full attention, after that. He kept imagining the angel showing up in the spiked boots and REAPER hoodie, or something of Jack’s that was identifiable as his. When the front desk called him at eleven-thirty to announce that he had a visitor to sign in, he was braced for the worst.

He wasn’t expecting the suit.

Jack would have said Gabriel had stolen one of Hanzo’s suits, except that it had obviously been tailored to fit him and there wouldn’t have been enough fabric in one of the vampire’s suits to cover the angel’s deliciously solid frame. He looked...good. Better than good. He looked like a model, like he should be walking down a Fortune 500-themed runway. Like he was about to star in a movie called _50 Shades of Gabe,_ and Jack wasn’t at all certain he’d have the strength to object if it went into glorifying abuse. He’d known the angel was attractive, but it was easy to ignore when he was dressing like he’d escaped from a particularly melodramatic section of the 90s.

He couldn’t ignore this.

Grateful that the thick, stiff material of his uniform pants would hide his reaction, he signed Gabriel in as a visitor and led him back up to the fortieth floor to meet his team.

In the elevator, Gabriel smirked at him. “You okay, Jackie?”

Jack had never been so happy to be called by a nickname he hated. “Fine,” he ground out, feeling his attraction wane. “You didn’t mention you were buying an expensive suit. Where did you even keep it?”

“The coat closet,” came the smug reply. “Do I really look that good?”

He refused to answer that. Gabriel, damn him, laughed.

Naturally, the Archangel was all smiles and charm meeting the rest of the team. Hanzo complimented his suit, they had a brief discussion, and the vampire seemed to accept the angel as an equal - if not superior - in the supernatural food chain. Gabriel hit it off immediately with Genji, both of them having an irreverent and cocky attitude, and he handled Lena’s bubbly excitement with the cool composure of a famous actor at a convention. Everyone loved him, he loved everyone, and Jack watched from the corner as he and Genji made plans to meet later for a drink, thinking sourly that not a one of them would believe the angel was an arrogant asshole under that charming smile. An asshole who’d nearly burned his apartment down, who refused to abide by the city’s protocols for angel safety, and who’d given Jack a panic attack by making Jack think he’d been abducted right out of his own apartment.

True, he hadn’t promised he’d stay there, only that he’d be okay on his own. And he _was_ one of God’s generals, even if he’d been a little vague on what his providence actually was. Jack made a mental note to ask Satya or Amelie about him later. And yet, at the same time, the angel could be thoughtful and generous. The flight he’d taken Jack on, for example, was something he’d treasure for the rest of his life. The fact that he’d held Jack so securely could be waved away with safety concerns, but the angel had kept him from falling once they’d landed again. He seemed to genuinely regret causing Jack such strife, and he wasn’t _deliberately_ being an asshole, and somehow that made it worse.

“Take a picture, Jack. It’ll last longer.”

Jack shook himself out of his thoughts to discover Ana standing beside him, leaning against his desk. “Hm?”

“You’re staring, Commander,” she clarified with a grin. “I’m concerned you’re going to burn a hole in the back of his head. Something happen between you two?”

“He’s an asshole,” Jack said shortly. “I’m convinced he’s the patron saint of assholes, and he’s a pain in my ass.”

Ana arched an eyebrow at him as he huffed in frustration. “What did he do?”

“You mean besides almost burning my kitchen down trying to make breakfast?”

“He was trying to do something nice,” she soothed.

Jack grunted and muttered, “He’s arrogant and he’s stubborn as hell and he refuses to do what’s for his own good.”

“Like you?”

He shot her a glare. “Ana, for fuck’s sake, what are you getting at?”

The sly grin on her face broadened. “Sounds like you’ve met your match.”

Jack groaned and covered his eyes so he didn’t have to see her expression as she laughed in triumph.

Lunch was sandwiches and salads, and Gabriel entertained a small flock while they ate. Jack led him off afterwards to show him all the case information he couldn’t bring home, with Ana following to make notes on a holopad as Gabriel pointed out things they’d either overlooked or hadn’t known to look for in the first place. They took him down to the morgue to inspect the corpse that had been found the day he’d arrived, and to speak with Baptiste about the autopsy. The medical examiner was polite as always, and Jack wondered if he even knew their guest was an angel. While Gabriel was inspecting the corpse for himself, however, the demon sidled over to Jack.

“Commander,” he said in a low but firm voice, “were you aware that your guest is an angel of high rank?” the demon doctor regarded Jack with those dark eyes that held an odd sense of warmth in them.

Jack smothered a groan. “Very,” he said in an equally low voice.

“Ah. Just making sure.”

On the other side of the room, Ana made a comment and called the angel ‘Gabe’. He corrected her politely but firmly, reminding her that his name was Gabriel, and she apologized.

“He told me,” Jack said absently, wondering what it meant that the angel had never corrected _him_. “How did you know?”

“He holds himself the same way our queen does,” the demon answered, but Jack got the feeling there was something he wasn’t saying.

The four of them discussed the case once Gabriel was done with his inspection, and with the new information he’d provided, they all felt confident that they’d find a lead soon and left at the end of the day with a sense of accomplishment.

Usually, Jack spent the weekend working. Either he put in overtime at the office, or he worked off the clock from home. This weekend, he found himself shopping for furniture with the Archangel who was sleeping on his couch and kept his clothes in shopping bags on the floor.

“You’re letting me stay with you,” Gabriel insisted as he picked out - and paid for - a three-drawer chest with fluted legs crafted from maple wood and finished with a silver-grey stain and dark glaze. “I’m not going to make you pay for something to hold my clothes.”

It wasn’t worth arguing about, Jack reasoned as the angel made arrangements to have the chest delivered. Then he announced a desire to look at couches.

“I’m the one sleeping on it,” he insisted.

Jack crossed his arms, telling himself he was _not_ going to sulk. “But you’re replacing the one I already own.”

“And that’s why you get a vote,” the angel reasoned. “When I leave, it will be yours.”

Still, Jack was reluctant to give up his old and comfortable couch...until they got to the couch section, and he sat on a gorgeous dark-brown leather couch that was long enough for either of them to lay comfortably on as a couch, _and_ folded out to a queen-sized bed. It was the sort of couch Jack had always wanted but couldn’t justify spending so much money on, but he wasn’t in a position to say ‘no’ to the purchase. All he could say was ‘not this one’, and with a nagging sense of guilt he gave his approval to the most luxurious couch he’d ever sat on.

After that, the trip to buy sheets and pillows and a comforter was anticlimactic.

Although he felt better about his guest having a place to sleep and somewhere to put his clothes, it was still awkward having the angel live with him. Jack felt like he was trapping Gabriel there even as he tried to convince the angel that he should be staying somewhere with higher security, and when he was trying to fall asleep late at night, he admitted to himself that he didn’t actually want his guest to move out. It was the most surreal set of contradictions: Gabriel was arrogant and often managed to say the wrong thing, but then he did something thoughtful to make up for it. Jack would come home to dinner in the oven (he hated to admit it, but Gabriel really was a very good cook) or all his laundry washed, dried, folded, and piled neatly on his bed to be put away.

And for an hour, maybe two, Gabriel would make an effort not to be an asshole, but then he would say something demeaning about humanity or call Jack ‘Jackie’ and he remembered why the angel had needed to apologize in the first place. He also had a habit of neither wearing a towel out of the shower nor bringing clothes in with him, making himself into a shameless parade of temptation going from bathroom to living room and standing there naked while picking out and putting on clothes. Anything Jack said on the subject was dismissed as ‘you humans and your silly notions of modesty’ and the angel didn’t bother to hide that he was laughing at him.

Sometimes, he called his guest ‘Gabe’ because they felt too close to _not_ use a nickname.

Other times, he used the nickname because he was annoyed and he knew Gabriel hated it, but tolerated it from him for...some reason. Jack didn’t know why, exactly, he was allowed to say it when no one else was, but he also wasn’t about to ask.

The lead they were all waiting for arrived a week and a half later.

Jack was typing up a report when Ana came in, and answered her ‘Good morning!’ With a grunt. For some reason, being laughed at by a naked and very attractive Archangel just didn’t put him in a sunny mood.

“I received a call from Amelie,” Ana continued, unperturbed, but Jack kept typing. She sat on the corner of his desk and waited.

“Oh?” he said, distracted, a handful of minutes later. “How’s our resident ballerina?”

“She reported suspicious activity around her dance studio.”

Jack immediately stopped typing and looked up at Ana, dread creeping down his throat to pool in his belly. “You think it’s...?”

“I think we have to assume it is,” she replied somberly. “The decision is yours to make, Jack.”

He stood and went to the door of his balcony, staring at the glass to the glittering towering buildings of downtown LA. Forty stories below, the street was bustling; the city was beautiful and alive, and somewhere among all those people just going about their daily lives, a killer was plotting to abduct and torture one of his charges.

“I want her under constant surveillance,” Jack said quietly. “Two officers watching her twenty-four seven. I’ll call Satya and Lucio to tell them to stay indoors and be on high alert.”

“We’re down two people right now,” Ana pointed out. “The Valentino case...”

Jack ran his hands down his face, cursing under his breath. “Then put us on the roster. You up for a stake-out tonight?”

In the glass, Ana’s reflection grinned at him. “I’ll give Fareeha money for pizza. Just like old times.”

Weakly, Jack smiled back. “Like old times.”


	4. Angelus Mortis

**Chapter IV: Angelus Mortis**

_“What do you mean, you’re not going to be back for dinner?”_

Jack winced away from his phone. “Something came up. I’m going on a stake-out tonight.”

He could almost feel the angel’s silver-ringed eyes bore into him through the phone. _“One of the other angels.”_

They’d never discussed the three guardian angels living in the city. Gabriel had never asked about them.

“One of the other angels,” Jack confirmed grimly.

_“You should bring me with you.”_

“I’m not putting you at risk, Gabe.”

_“I won’t BE at risk!”_

“Because you’ll be safe at home!” Jack snapped. It was endearing, sometimes, that the angel seemed to think it was his responsibility to take care of him, but making sure Gabriel was safe was part of Jack’s job. “I’ve got one angel at risk, Gabriel. Don’t make it two. Lock the door and don’t leave the apartment. Call if anyone tries to get in.”

Seething silence answered him.

“Gabe...”

_“They’re my responsibility, too,”_ Gabriel said quietly. _“I’m trusting you, Jack. But you better fucking call me if you need backup. You’re not the only one who worries.”_

The line went dead.

Sighing, Jack tucked his phone back into his pocket and opened the locker in the corner by his desk. He wasn’t sure if that call had gone well or not, or what it said that the Archangel hadn’t argued against being effectively grounded. Right now, it didn’t matter. It only took a few minutes to get his bulletproof vest on and settled under his clothes, to check his pistols and ammo, and to lock everything back up on his way down to meet Ana in the garage.

“Fareeha’s got pizza and a couple of movies,” Ana said by way of greeting, leaning against the trunk of the undercover cruiser with her arms crossed. “How’s yours?”

“Sulky,” Jack answered shortly. “Are we packed?”

She patted the trunk and straightened. “Yours and mine. Checked them over myself. We also picked up a spare.”

Jack frowned as he circled the car to get into the front passenger’s seat. “A spa-”

“Good evening, Commander,” chirped Genji from the back seat.

He looked over at Ana, settling herself in behind the wheel.

“He insisted on coming with us,” she said in something that wasn’t quite a sigh.

“My brother is feeding from his...favorite blood sponsor, tonight.” Genji shrugged and leaned back against the upholstery of the car. “That leaves me unable to investigate our case this evening. It bores me to stay at home, and I thought that you could use some extra help.”

“I appreciate that,” Jack said as Ana put the car in drive and headed out of the garage, towards the part of town where Amelie lived. “Thanks for lending a hand, even if we don’t wind up needing it.”

“I’ll keep myself entertained, don’t worry.” The young vampire shrugged.

A chime from his pocket; Jack pulled his phone out to see who had texted him.

_Sunshine_

_Sapphires more alluring than the depths of the ocean_

_The sun’s rays, spun into strands of gold_

_Sparkling jewel, flames caught within_

_The heart of a warrior blazes_

_Drawn by the light, wings flutter_

_There is no escape._

Jack Morrison was in his thirties and had had his share of failed relationships, flings, and one-night stands. Somehow, none of them had ever made him blush like the cryptic text Gabriel had just sent him.

Poetry. Gabriel had composed poetry for him, something rarely done, if not dead, in the fast pace of 2019. No one has ever done this for Jack, even during his middle school days wherein passing notes and love letters in the middle of class was the trend. Jack re-read the poem over and over again and the thundering in his chest which reached his ears got louder each time.

“Your blood thrums potent in your veins,” Genji observed from the back seat, fingers absently caressing the hilt of his katana. “Did your angel wish you luck?”

“He’s not _my_ angel,” Jack shot back immediately, fingers flying over his screen. _Did you just text me poetry?_

The green-haired vampire grinned broadly. “You didn’t answer my question,” he sing-songed.

“You didn’t answer my question, _sir_.” Jack corrected with finality.

A text came in from Gabriel. _Fun fact, in the angelic realm I’m the patron of literature, music, and the arts._

Jack wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

The rest of the drive was quiet, although both Ana and Genji were smiling, and Jack kept looking at the poem he’d been sent. He could put most of it down to flattery, but what was that last line? ‘There is no escape’? Escape from what? He tried to put it out of his mind as they reached Amelie’s quiet suburban neighborhood. The other two angels thrived on being in the heart of the city, but Amelie enjoyed living in obscurity when she wasn’t in the spotlight. Ana pulled over across the street from the angel’s house and turned off the engine.

“I’ll scout the area,” Genji announced, opening his door and slipping out, katana in hand. He slung the longer sword over his back and adjusted the wakizashi secured horizontally just above his waist.

Jack nodded. “Copy that.”

“Be careful,” Ana reminded him as she and Jack climbed out, “and let us know if you find something.”

The vampire slipped a small earpiece into his ear and tapped it. “I understand. Please be careful as well, Captain.” He nodded at Jack. “Commander.”

“We will,” Jack promised as he and Ana went around to the trunk.

In the blink of an eye Genji was gone, vampire speed and agility letting him blend into the shadows and scale walls without effort.

“Good kid,” Ana said fondly as she keyed in the release code. The trunk’s lock released with a soft hiss, revealing the weapons secured inside. “I wish Hanzo smiled even half as much. He’s always so...” She scowled in a decent imitation of the other vampire’s usual disdainful look.

“They’re three-hundred-something years old, Ana,” Jack chuckled. “I don’t think Genji counts as a kid when he’s older than your great-grandmother.”

Ana lifted her sniper’s rifle out of its restraints and shrugged before lifting it to her eye to check the scope. “I guess I just have an old soul. Inherited it from one of my alchemist ancestors, perhaps.”

“You have witch blood?” Jack asked, lifting his heavy pulse rifle out of the trunk.

As long as his arm and as thick as his leg, it fired twenty-five rounds of some of the heaviest ammunition he’d ever handled, plus three rounds of specially-designed Helix rockets, and was Jack’s signature weapon. Ana’s rifle was modified as well, firing vials of enchanted liquids that could burn like acid. Useful when they were facing something that wasn’t human.

“Not witches,” Ana corrected. “Alchemists. Humans can’t use magic, but by combining tools enchanted by others with science, we can create something new.”

Jack closed the trunk. “So the office rumors are true; you really did design that thing.” He glanced at her rifle.

“I thought you had better things to do than listen to gossip,” she teased, shaking her head in mock-disappointment. “I can’t wait to tell everyone that the commander enjoys stories from the grapevine.”

“No one would believe you,” he joked back, smiling.

Ana smirked at him. “You’re forgetting the crap you pulled during the office Christmas party three years back.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he said boldly.

“Try me,” she sing-songed as she sauntered off towards a water tower three houses down.

Jack slipped his own earpiece in and was treated to his partner singing softly in Arabic as she climbed up the tower. She’d settle into a good vantage point and watch the house from a distance, able to call out activity and provide cover fire. Amelie had been made aware of the increased security, of course. As Jack crossed the street to find a post in her yard, he saw her silhouette move gracefully past the one lit window before the light was shut off and the house was completely dark.

Nothing was likely to happen in the first hour, when there was a good chance the target was still awake, so Jack took a seat on the wrought-iron bench in the garden. He set his rifle down within easy reach and pulled out the pack of smokes in his breast pocket, tapping on the bottom and pulling one out with his teeth when the filter obediently popped up further than the others. Lighting it was easy, and he took a drag as he tucked the pack away. The moon was waning, but a quarter-moon still provided plenty of light. Where there was light, though, there was also darkness. Genji was far from the only person in the city who could utilize the shadows, and it wouldn’t do to let his guard down.

He was taking the last drags on his cigarette when his phone buzzed that he’d gotten a text. It was from Gabriel, of course.

_The night is empty._

Jack ground the butt of his cigarette out against the bench and dropped it through one of the holes, hoping Amelie wouldn’t see it under her bench in the morning. _Good,_ he typed back. _Let’s hope it stays that way._

When his phone buzzed again, he saw that Gabriel had taken a selfie. The angel was shirtless, staring straight into the camera with a tiny smirk on his lips, those dark, silver-ringed eyes of his seeming to see straight into Jack’s soul despite being a still photograph. But the curve of his throat...his lips...

Jack shook his head. Asshole; he knew he was attractive and that his nudity flustered Jack, and he wasn’t above flaunting it.

_Congratulations,_ he typed. _You’re officially a vain bastard_.

When Gabriel’s reply came in, he could almost hear the angel’s smug tone. _Hey, what’s the use of being the patron of angelic music, literature, and the arts if I don’t look good?_

Jack chose not to answer that. He did, however, save the photo with a wordless thought of gratitude for the darkness of the garden that would hide his cheeks being flushed.

Both Genji and Ana reported in regularly, with no signs of suspicious activity in the area. Jack reported that all was quiet in the yard, as well.

After an hour of quiet, it was understandable that Jack would train his rifle on the source of any sound, which is how he wound up aiming at Amelie’s back door and Amelie herself. She was wearing a red robe, which Jack knew had been tailored to accommodate her wings with some elegant arrangement of slots and buttons. Of all three guardian angels, she was the most reluctant to hide her wings and typically had them out, and tonight was no exception. The deep lavender appendages were closed primly against her back, forming a valley through which her long, black hair cascaded neatly. Grace in every movement, she arched one elegant eyebrow at him and gestured to the tray in her other hand. A pot of steaming coffee and three mugs sat on it.

“I bring you coffee, Monsieur Morrison, and this is how you repay me?” The words lilted dryly with her French accent and how unimpressed she was. “Is Madame Amari with you? It is a cold night. This will warm your fragile, mortal bones.”

Jack got to his feet and carefully took the tray from Amelie with a small nod of thanks. “Shimada’s with us,” he said.

“Which one? The elder, or the spider monkey?”

That made him chuckle. “Genji.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “The spider monkey. And how is his brother?”

Jack grinned. “A stick in the mud, as always.”

He set the tray down on the wrought-iron table beside the bench and offered the angel his hand. As always, it was so soft and delicate in his grasp that it made him feel self-conscious even though he knew she could probably punch through walls. But, like a gentleman, he guided her to the bench so she could seat herself.

“Merci,” she purred as she released his hand to fold both of hers neatly in her lap.

Jack sat beside her, pulse rifle propped against the arm of the bench, and poured them both coffee. The hot mug felt very good between his chilled hands.

“I could not sleep,” Amelie said quietly. “It is...distressing, to think that I might be the target of someone hunting me like an animal.” She stared up at the moon, golden eyes washed in silver. “Have you found any leads?”

Having the angel out in the open like this made Jack nervous, but they were in sight of the water tower which meant Ana would be watching them. He had no idea where Genji was, but assumed the vampire was somewhere close by.

“The runes carved on the victim’s body were neither purely angelic nor purely demonic,” he began slowly. “Symbols were taken from both the Book of Life and the Book of Death and merged into new ones.” Hesitantly, he sipped at the steaming mug in his hands.

Beside him, Amelie stiffened and turned to look at him with all the intensity of a falcon seeing a mouse. “How did you know about that?”

“About what?” Jack asked in confusion.

“Humans are not supposed to know about those books.” Those golden eyes narrowed. “They are not human lore.”

“I didn’t know about them,” Jack protested. “I was told. Dr. Augustin-”

“Is a demon and should not know about the Book of Life. Satya would never speak of such things to another race. Was it Lucio who told you?”

“No. It was...” he hesitated, unsure of how to describe Gabriel. “...an angel from out of town who happened to arrive the day the body was found. He’s been consulting with me on the case.”

Amelie looked offended. “And you did not introduce us?”

“He didn’t want to be introduced,” Jack said lamely. “We’re keeping him pretty quiet because he’s...” Was it okay to tell another angel this? “...an Archangel,” he finished in a low voice.

The laugh that burst out of Amelie was musical, silver bells and elegant disbelief. “Monsieur Morrison,” she said condescendingly, “the Archangels haven’t left the angelic realm for thousands of years, not since they waged war on another realm who had declared war against God and nearly wiped out the entire population.” She pinned him with her golden gaze. “Tell me of him.”

“He’s an asshole,” Jack said immediately. “My height, my build, looks like he could be a model. Black wings with silver edges and red flecks, right arm has a tattoo sleeve of red lilies and thorny vines. Twenty-four in Roman numerals on his neck. Ring any bells?”

“A picture,” she demanded, eyes wide. “Do you have a picture?”

Jack set his mug down and brought out his phone. It took only a second to pull up the selfie Gabriel had sent, and he showed it to her, but she only stared as if she were a mouse facing a snake.

“Mon Dieu,” she whispered, not taking her eyes from it. “Gabriel the Wraith, the fourth Archangel.”

“I take it you know him,” he said, putting his phone away to sip his coffee again. ”Wraith? It fits with his whole edgy persona. He did say his name is Gabriel, and he claimed to be the patron of the arts in your realm.”

Amelie stared down at her hands, clasped around her mug. “It is true that he is our patron of the arts. Nothing compares to the songs he composes, and his poetry is passed down through the generations. But he is also God’s shadow: his spymaster and executioner.”

“That...also fits with what he told me,” Jack said slowly. Amelie’s reaction was making him uneasy.

“Did he tell you his provenance?”

Mutely, Jack shook his head.

Slowly, Amelie raised her head to pin him with her gaze again, her eyes wide and frightened. “Gabriel the Wraith,” she said in a hushed tone, “is the Archangel of Death.”

_No wonder he’s so sure of himself,_ Jack thought numbly. Then his mind was flooded with questions and memories, too fast for one to even complete before another shoved it out of the way, and when he opened his mouth, what came out was, “I guess that explains the hoodie.”

~/~/~/~

After dropping that title like a bomb, Amelie took the coffee tray and retreated into her house, leaving Jack alone with his mug and his tangled thoughts. He wanted to text Gabriel and ask him what the _hell_ , why didn’t he say something (wasn’t that obvious though?), why did he let Jack call him ‘Gabe’ (but did he really want to know?), why the shirtless selfie (he was pretty sure he _didn’t_ want to know), just...why?

But he didn’t. He sat there, in the dark, pulse rifle in his hands and thoughts in a whirl, mechanically answering when Genji or Ana checked in, watching the darkened house with eyes that saw nothing.

It was somewhere past two in the morning when a loud crash sounded from inside Amelie’s house, and in the same breath Ana was in his ear with a surprised shout.

_“Three targets,”_ she said hurriedly, _“two upstairs and one by the front door. I didn’t see them approach.”_

_“There is a van approaching,”_ Genji added. _“I will ensure it does not reach the house.”_

“Copy that,” Jack said crisply. “I’m going in.”

The door was sturdy.

Jack’s shoulder was sturdier.

The front door crashed into the wall and movement from the stairs had Jack drop to one knee and aim, but before he could squeeze off a shot, the body of what looked to be an orc demon tumbled bonelessly down the stairs.

“You are late!” chided Amelie from the landing, her hair tied back in a high ponytail and her nightdress ripped up the sides for freedom of movement. Something that looked very much like a sniper’s rifle sat in her hands.

“We didn’t see them come in!” Jack protested, swinging his rifle to the side to clip a charging demon in the shoulder. The impact sent the demon crashing into a chair, and the next shot went through his skull like it was a ripe pumpkin.

Amelie hissed in disgust as she stalked down the stairs. “That is what I was trying to avoid! The carpet was custom-ordered from Paris.”

“I’ll have it dry-cleaned once we get out of here alive,” Jack retorted absently, eyes darting from side to side. “Ana said she saw three. That was only two. How did they get in?”

“Someone disabled my security system,” the angel replied angrily, slotting a - was that a tranquilizer dart? - into her rifle. “One came through the front door. The others turned into smoke.”

Motion from the kitchen; Amelie reacted first, shooting a dart into the neck of the third intruder.

“I thought-”

“They are sleeping only! I do not kill,” the angel snapped.

Jack approached the third figure, now unconscious, and pulled his helmet off. “Human,” he announced. “But the second one was a demon, and Genji said he saw a van approaching.”

“A syndicate, then?”

“Most likely.” Jack growled under his breath and tapped his ear piece to contact his team. “Amari, Shimada, report.”

_“I’ve sabotaged their getaway vehicle, Commander.”_ Genji was the first one to report, and he sounded pleased.

“How many casualties?” Jack asked. In his experience, there were always casualties with Genji, so the question was not _if_ but _how many_.

_“Three.”_ A pause, the sound of a blade slicing through the air, and a scream cut short into gurgling. _“Make that four.”_

Ana’s voice interrupted them. _“I see people closing in on the house from all directions, Commander. You and Amelie need to get out of there. I’ll cover you.”_

“Roger that.”

Jack grabbed Amelie by the wrist and turned towards the front door, but she freed herself easily from his grasp and strode past him, chin high.

“I am more than capable of finding my own way out,” she said primly. “Merci beaucoup.”

He rolled his eyes, but he was grinning as he followed her. “Backup?”

_“Already requested and on their way,”_ Genji answered. 

“Tell your brother I’m sorry his dinner date got ruined.”

The vampire snorted.

_“My brother has not dated in a century. He feeds and leaves. Sometimes he feeds, then fucks, then leaves.”_

“TMI, Shimada,” Jack protested through a grin. “I didn’t need to know about your brother’s sex life. He doesn’t need to know I said that, of course. Ana, we’re coming out.”

Amelie had her rifle readied in anticipation as she stepped through the door, but the bushes rustled and slugs whined and there were brief cries, then silence.

_“More are appearing!”_ Ana sounded frantic. _“I can’t cover you with this many, Jack! Get out of there!”_

_“I am retreating, Commander!”_ Genji sounded less frantic, but just as worried. _“This is more than I can handle.”_

“Group up with us,” Jack ordered, but a sound from inside the house made him hesitate, and then something grabbed him by the back of his jacket and sent him flying out into the yard where he was rudely stopped by the trunk of a tree, the pulse rifle falling from his hands as the breath was knocked out of him.

“Jack!” Amelie, in the middle of the yard, looked terrified and frozen with indecision.

Struggling to fill his lungs, Jack coughed out, “Fly!”

Out of the corners of his eyes, he could see several figures darting towards them with speed far past anything a human was capable of. “Damnit, fly away!”

For the first time since he’d known her, the icy composure Amelie always wore cracked, and tears glittered at the corners of her golden eyes. “Do not die, Jack Morrison,” she commanded angrily, as if that would keep her voice from trembling.

Then her lavender wings opened with a snap and drove down, launching her into the air like a bullet as the figured leaped for her and missed, and then she was gone.

“The angel’s getting away!” shouted a voice near Jack, and as the figure ran past him, Jack stuck one hand out to grab his ankle. The figure hit the dirt, rolled out of his grasp, and stood up. “You’ll pay for that, you son of a bitch!”

The booted foot that lashed out caught him in the chest, knocking the wind out of him again, and Jack curled up protectively around his vitals.

“Not so ballsy now, are you, human?”

Shin, ribs, the small of his back. Jack took the kicks in stoic silence, focusing on filling his lungs, and then he rolled away from his assailant and launched himself, not to his feet, but directly at the goon. They both went down in a tangle of limbs, kicking and punching haphazardly. A lucky elbow shattered the goon’s visor, and Jack took the opportunity to pull the pistol from the small of his back and shoot the demon multiple times in the head. 

Breathing heavily, Jack climbed to his feet and loaded a fresh magazine into the pistol while taking stock of his injuries. Mostly bruises, it seemed, although there was a cut on his temple that was going to make his hair a pain to clean later. Assuming there was a later. He’d suffered worse, but he’d never had to fight half a dozen demons by himself, either.

“Ana?” Jack gasped, hoping the communicator hadn’t fallen out. “Genji? Come in! What’s your status?”

_“Jack...”_ Ana sounded far away. _“I can’t-”_

A gunshot interrupted her, and she screamed the way Jack had never heard anyone scream, not even when they were dying. Ignoring the pile of demons starting to pick themselves up behind him, he turned towards the water tower in time to see a figure topple off of it and plummet to the ground.

“Ana!!”

Jack scooped up his pulse rifle and sprinted down the block towards the tower, but before he was close enough to see where his friend and partner had landed, a silvery-blue light blossomed on the concrete in front of him. A small device of some sort appeared in the light and opened, a portal materializing over it. Jack shot at the device, but half a dozen goons had emerged from the teleporter, weapons raised, before the portal flickered out. 

He was surrounded. He was surrounded, and alone, and he was going to die.

~/~/~/~

Amelie flew through the night faster than she’d ever flown before, driven not by fear or self-preservation but by the memory of Jack Morrison slumped against a tree, urging her to fly away. Every iota of her being as a guardian angel demanded that she turn around and fling herself into the path of the danger, protecting Jack - and Ana, and even Genji - with her life, if that’s what it took. But she was only one lesser angel, and if she turned back it would mean her own death as well as theirs. By herself, she could not help them.

But Gabriel could.

She had never been to Jack’s apartment, but he insisted all three of the angels under his protection know where he lived in case of emergencies. So she zipped around the skyscrapers of downtown Los Angeles until she found the one she was looking for, trying not to think about the fact that she was going to not only face the Archangel of Death, but beg him for help. When she identified Jack’s apartment and saw that there was a light on, she breathed a wordless prayer of thanks and turned her rifle around to use the butt as a battering ram, flinging herself through the window with her wings pulled in tight.

The glass shattered, painting her pale arms with streaks of blood, and she tumbled gracelessly onto the floor, cursing in French as she prepared to haul herself to her feet. The pain she felt was of no consequence; she would heal, but if she did not hurry, Jack and the others would die.

_Click_

The room filled with a heavy, unforgiving aura and she knew without looking that Jack had spoken the truth: his guest was an Archangel.

Slowly, Amelie lifted her head and found herself face to face with the business end of an enormous, double-barreled shotgun. Behind it was something even more deadly: a broad man with dark skin and darker eyes ringed with silver. He stared at her, unmoving, unyielding, as if he were only making up his mind about what to do with her body once he shot her. Terrified past her ability to be scared, she tore her eyes away from his and caught sight of the vibrant red lilies on their tangle of thorny vines.

“Can I help you?” the Archangel demanded in a tone that said, _go away_.

He was dressed in nothing but a pair of soft flannel pajama bottoms, black with little skulls and crossed bones, but that in no way made him look less intimidating; as an angel, Amelie could see the aura of power emanating from him. Wisps of black smoke formed the backdrop against which red tendrils waved like tongues of flame. She couldn’t have stood if she wanted to; her bones felt like they had turned to mush and every muscle in her body trembled. She was, beyond any doubt, in the presence of one of God’s Chosen and he was gloriously pissed.

It took what felt like far too long for her to get her mouth working. “Sire,” she pled, her voice shaking as hard as the rest of her. But then words failed her and she fumbled for the pendant she always wore: her family’s coat of arms on a golden chain, with a small portrait of her ancestress. She wore a crown of skulls and spiders, an upside-down dagger clasped in delicate fingers laced around the handle as if in prayer. Amelie tugged it out and held it up as though it would protect her - which it might. “Sire,” she said again, facing the terrifying gaze of Death, “I am Amelie, from the Guillard bloodline. Members of my family served in your stealth squadrons during the war with the mad demon king many eons ago.”

The shotgun did not waver, but the aura choking her retreated and she sucked in a deep breath of air, trying not to cry in relief.

“You look like Eloise,” the Archangel said.

“Oui. She is my great-great-grandmother.”

Now the shotgun vanished, and the hand that had been holding it turned palm up in a silent offer of assistance. Amelie allowed herself a spark of hope as she put one hand in the Archangel’s and let him haul her effortlessly to her feet.

“She’s one of my best squad leaders,” the Archangel said. Then he gestured to the shattered window. “Jack’s not going to like that.”

A small sob escaped her at the reminder of why she was there. Immediately, the aura of Death was back, feeling like the air was filled with thorns, and the silver around his irises began to glow with a light that would blind mortal races. Then came the question Amelie had been dreading, because it was clear that the Archangel was fond of her protector and he was _not_ going to like the message she had come to deliver.

“Where,” he said slowly, each word sharp as a scythe and heavy as dread, “is Jack?”

~/~/~/~

Jack rolled behind a parked car and slammed into his last magazine into his rifle. Twenty-five rounds and three helix rockets to keep him alive a little longer. He was near the water tower now, and he crouched low to the ground and peeked around the car to fire a few rounds at his pursuers. Three of them fell, but there were about fifteen more that had poured out of a pair of teleporters before he could shoot the devices. If they could afford that kind of technology, then this syndicate wasn’t cheap; to hire them would cost money. Lots and lots of it. Unfortunately, that information neither helped him identify the buyer nor deal with the goons that wanted him dead for costing them their precious merchandise. Ana was still alive, at least; Jack could hear her whimpering, somewhere in the dark by the water tower. Genji wasn’t responding.

“Ana, hold on. Genji…” Jack gritted his teeth. “Say something...please.”

_“Commander.”_ A deep male voice, a familiar voice, came through Genji’s channel. _“Hanzo at your service.”_

Relief washed over Jack - Hanzo was one of his most valuable people - but they weren’t out of the woods yet. “About time, Shimada. Where’s your brother?”

_“Unconscious.”_ Hanzo’s voice was dark, nearly a growl. _“We found him lying in a pool of his own blood.”_

“Shit.” Jack stood and fired a few more rounds at the masked goons creeping closer, sending them scrambling for cover, and made a beeline for the water tower as fast as his own injuries allowed him to run. The rib might not have been cracked when Amelie had flown to safety, but it sure as hell was now, and it made breathing more challenging.

_“Worry not,”_ Hanzo replied, his voice like an underground lake: dark and calm, and every bit as cold and deadly. _“He is alive.”_

When Hanzo sounded like that, Jack knew he was plotting murder in his mind. Clean, efficient, quiet and fast; that’s how Hanzo worked. Unfortunately, Jack was far from quiet with his pulse rifle. The houses in the neighborhood had shut their blinds and barricaded their doors at the sound of gunfire outside, and he had no doubt that the only reason more police hadn’t arrived was that backup had already been on its way when the calls came in.

_“Fenrir brought Genji to the hospital,”_ Hanzo continued. _“The rest are with me.”_

A chipper tone thick with a British accent cut in. _“Don’t forget about me! Lena Oxton reporting for duty!”_

“Good to have you here, rookie.” Jack grunted at the fae. He peered carefully out from behind the bush sheltering him and muttered a curse. “I’ve got ten goons on my ass. Ana got shot off the water tower. I’m making my way to her location, but these assholes aren’t making that easy.”

_“Ammo?”_ Hanzo asked.

“Eighteen rounds and three rockets. The bastards keep using teleporters to send in more troops.”

_“What is your location, commander?”_ Hanzo’s tone held just the slightest bit of urgency, which in this situation meant he was nearly frantic. _“I am by the main road.”_

“Down the street from Amelie’s house, in the shadow of the tower. Just follow the trail of dead bodies.” Jack fired a rocket at the biggest cluster of enemies, then huffed and bolted for the tower. He ignored his own injuries and broke into a dead run when he spotted a figure, crumpled on the ground ahead of him, in the darkness.

Ana. _No_.

_“I understand. We are on our way.”_ Hanzo’s line went dead, and Jack dove straight for the figure of his partner.

Even in the dim light, Jack was horrified at what he saw: Ana curled into a ball on the ground with both hands over her eyes. Blood covered her face and hands, and she was whimpering to try and hold in pain because if the enemy heard her, they’d find her and if they found her, she’d be dead.

“Ana, hey,” Jack hissed while he glanced over his shoulder. He’d managed to outrun the goons, but they were advancing again, looking behind every bush and into every shadow. If they didn’t hurry, they’d be surrounded. “It’s me. Can you stand? We gotta go.”

“Jack,” Ana croaked. “I...my eye....”

Reluctantly, Jack set his weapon on the ground and reached out to gently cup Ana’s face between his hands and turn her head into the moonlight. She let one hand fall and he tried to see past the blood to assess the damage, but what he saw made his stomach turn. The right eye was a ruin; whoever had done this, they’d managed to hit her scope and the only reason Ana was alive was that shattering the scope had kept the slug from going all the way through her head. She was damned lucky that an eye was all tonight had cost her.

So far.

Carefully, he helped Ana up and wrapped one arm around her waist to keep her on her feet. He wasn’t about to leave his partner behind, even if it could cost him his life; better his life than Fareeha’s mother, he thought.

“Don’t worry,” Jack said softly. “I’ve got you.”

“But who’s got you?” Taunted a muffled voice from behind him.

The voice box attached to the helmet made the syndicate goon sounded robotic, and Jack froze when he felt the barrel of a gun press against the back of his head. His rifle was still on the ground because Ana was the priority, and Jack cursed himself for letting his guard down while Ana hissed something under her breath. This was it, they were going to die.

“He’s got me, asshole.”

A loud bang shattered the silence, blood and gray matter splattering against them as the goon’s head exploded from the shot fired at such close range - what the hell kind of gun _was_ that? - and a thrill shot down Jack’s spine because _that was Gabriel_.

Mindful of Ana, Jack turned around and saw the Archangel looking like the night they’d first met: garbed in the sleeveless Kevlar coat that threw the red lilies into stark contrast and hovering a few inches above the ground, wings spread as if to challenge the sky. Jack half expected to see raindrops frozen in awe of the Archangel, afraid to fall until he graced the Earth with his touch. The difference was that now, Gabriel held twin shotguns that were easily as big as the pulse rifle, one still smoking from being fired. The angel’s eyes glowed with power, silver rings molten and swirling around the deep brown of his irises, and as elated as he was, every cell in his body screamed to abase himself before the figure whose wrath was nearly palpable, filling the air with electricity that made every hair on Jack’s body stand on end. He’d known the angel’s rank, but now he _knew_ it as a truth more certain than the beating of his own heart.

**_Archangel_.**

“Looks like I got here just in time.” Gabriel sounded pleased as he settled onto the ground, night-sky wings closing against his back, glancing around to assess their situation. “Take Ana and run,” he commanded, pointing. “That way. One of your men, the older vampire, is almost here and the fae woman is with him.” Then he met Jack’s eyes and the molten silver seemed warmer, somehow.

“Gabriel-”

The angel frowned. “Get _out_ of here, Jackie.” He turned to face the goons closing warily in on them, weapons ready, drawn by the bark of the shotgun.

“What about you?” Jack demanded.

Teleporters appeared on the ground, and more goons poured out.

Gabriel rolled his eyes, the arrogance Jack was used to reappearing. “Me? I’ll be fine. This isn’t my first blood bath.”

As much as he wanted to protest, Ana elbowed him in the ribs. He had to get her to safety; Fareeha was waiting for her mother to come home. Jack knelt, scooping up his weapon and tipping Ana over his shoulder in the same motion. Ignoring the pain in his side, he jogged in the direction Hanzo and Lena were approaching from. Ana was the priority right now, but Jack vowed that the instant she was safe, he’d return for Gabriel. Archangel of Death or not, he was still Jack’s responsibility and there was no way in hell Jack would walk away when there was even the slightest chance he’d need help. The syndicate goons were hunting an angel, after all; who knew what tricks they had up their sleeves.

“Jack?”

Ana’s voice was weak and confused, and he threw a quick glance over his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he assured her. “Gabriel’s covering our six.”

“Amelie?”

“I told her to fly to safety. She’s probably the reason Gabriel’s here. Not that I don’t trust Gabriel, but can you watch my back while I get us to Hanzo and Lena?”

Chuckling weakly, Ana fumbled for her sidearm. “Have I ever let you down, Jack?”

Despite everything that had happened that night, Jack grinned. “No, you never have.”

~/~/~/~

At first, it was fun.

Gabriel’s shotguns barked in a steady rhythm, mowing down the enemies one after the other with satisfying regularity. They fell like flies, powerless before his might.

But they didn’t stop coming.

Every goon he killed was replaced by three more, leaping out of teleporter portals to their doom but blocking his shots at the devices themselves, and they were of a higher caliber than the ones that had been hunting Jack.

_That_ made his blood boil. His host, his brave and beautiful human, had nearly been killed in the defense of a lesser angel. Gabriel’s eyes pierced the darkness effortlessly, and he’d seen the blood that matted Jack’s golden hair. They’d _hurt_ his human, and for that, they would pay. That’s why he killed them one by one, taking a slow pleasure in decimating their ranks, instead of calling on more of his power and ending this farce in a heartbeat. But he was beginning to get annoyed with their never-ending numbers, and then he heard some of them talking amongst themselves as he obliterated their fellows.

“This one looks like a better score than the ballerina bitch,” one of them said.

An underling glanced at some wrist-mounted device. “Energy readings spiking, boss. Max will forgive us if we bring him something better.”

_Energy readings spiking? I’ll show you energy readings spiking._

Gabriel dissolved into black smoke and flowed across the small battlefield to manifest behind those two, one shotgun casually resting on his shoulder. The goons surrounding their boss aimed their weapons at him but did not fire - wise, because he was still misty around the edges and their shots would have gone harmlessly right through him.

“I’ll make you fellas a deal,” he announced in a vaguely-threatening fashion. “Tell me who ‘Max’ is and what he wants with angels, and I’ll let you survive to see tomorrow.”

The one who’d been called ‘boss’ sneered. “Sorry, chicken wings. We don’t throw our clients under the bus. Company policy,” he added patronizingly.

His underling shrieked as Gabriel’s shotgun barked, splattering blood and guts all over him. The loudmouth toppled over with a voiceless groan, a gaping hole in his chest where his heart and a good portion of his lungs should have been. The rest of the thugs took an involuntary step back, and he was certain at least one of them needed clean pants.

“Last chance,” the Archangel announced coolly, thoroughly unimpressed by the insult. He’d heard worse from a teenager in the mall. “I don’t have all night to play with you jokers.”

As much as he trusted Jack’s faith in his underlings, he had more faith in himself and he itched to fly after them and make sure they were safe. Ana had a daughter who needed her mother, and Jack...

Remembering the blood matted in Jack’s golden hair made his eyes blaze brighter in rage, but he wasn’t God’s spymaster because he let his emotions get the better of him, especially when it came to ferreting out information.

“Who do you answer to,” he asked slowly, each word heavy as the impact of his boots on a stone floor, “and what do they want with angels?”

The underling looked...excited? What-

“Now!”

Careless. Gabriel had been so focused on the flunkies in front of him that he hadn’t checked the trees, and shooting that minion had meant giving up the intangibility of mist. A net made of enchanted cords fell from above, thin wires woven throughout delivering a powerful electric shock that stunned him before he could turn to smoke, and he crumpled gracelessly on the ground. As he struggled to scrape his thoughts back together he felt the strong demonic magic course through the cords, impeding his powers.

“This one’s all talk after all,” one of the goons taunted.

Before Gabriel could wrestle one of his shotguns up to shoot the loudmouth through the net, someone beat him to it and the rest of them turned to face the intruder. The angel grinned, a dark and bloody expression. Never turn your back on an enemy, even if you think he’s incapacitated. _Never_. It took only a moment to determine that the net wasn’t actually weighted; the violet orbs that ringed it were the source of that demonic energy, and its goal was to negate his angelic strength. It would have left a lesser angel completely helpless, but he was not a lesser angel and they were about to realize their mistake.

Then the two goons blocking his view of the intruder toppled over, and Gabriel caught a glimpse of bloody gold.

“Jack, what the fuck are you doing here?” he demanded, anger covering a surge of fear for his beautiful, brave, stubborn, stupid human.

“What does it look like?” Jack barked back, shooting another goon in the face. “I came back for you, asshole!”

“I’m fine,” Gabriel insisted, half-curled on his side with his wings spread flat behind him. “Got them right where I want them.”

Two more goons went down, and the underling gestured to someone behind Gabriel, who felt something tug at the net.

“You _want_ to be pinned on the ground by a magic net? Because that doesn’t look like fine, Gabe!” Jack shot him a glare between shooting another goon.

The net was being pulled, now, and he was sliding slowly over the grass. They were going to drag him through a teleporter, no doubt, and he was tempted to let them - but not if it meant leaving Jack unprotected.

“I can handle it,” he seethed. “But I told you to go! So you would be _safe!”_

Jack slammed the butt of his rifle into the helmeted face of a thug that got too close, then shot him in the chest. “Are you saying I’m not safe with you?”

As if to take advantage of the opportunity for irony that statement presented, the thug to Jack’s other side raised a knife with a wickedly curved blade. Gabriel recognized that shape - that was a ceremonial soul-stealing demon blade.

The time for play was over; Gabriel drew on all of his holy might.

It was time to _end_ this.

~/~/~/~

As Jack hurried away from Gabriel with Ana watching his six, he heard those massive shotguns going off rhythmically and grinned, thinking of the goons the angel was felling effortlessly. It was barely a minute later before he spotted Hanzo, running towards him with Lena following, her transparent wings a blur of rainbow flashes as she skimmed along above the sidewalk. As Jack slowed to a stop, there was a thunder of larger wings, and Amelie dropped gracefully out of the night sky to reach scratched and bloody arms out towards him.

“You are alive!” she exclaimed with relief then remembered the captain; “Is Captain Amari...?”

“Not quite dead,” Ana rasped as Jack set her on her feet.

Amelie covered her mouth. “Your eye - we must get you to the hospital! And Jack...”

“I’m okay,” he assured her. “It’s mostly just bruises. What happened to you?”

“I went to your apartment,” she said, gathering Ana into her arms. “Gabriel - I led Gabriel here, is he...?”

With his arms now free, he lifted his pulse rifle and accepted the magazine Lena handed him. “I’m going back to give him a hand.”

Hanzo frowned. “Should I...?”

“You make sure they get out of here safely,” Jack ordered. “I’ll go to the hospital once I’m done here. Go!”

They went.

Jack jogged back the way he’d come, following the sounds of Gabriel’s shotguns, until the rhythmic song of death stopped. Alarmed, he broke into a run and then, around the hedges, he saw a cluster of syndicate goons with Gabriel on the far side. Words were exchanged, too far away for Jack to hear, and then one shotgun cried out. Jack hesitated - the angel seemed to have everything under control - but then a demon net dropped out of the trees and he charged, uncaring of his own safety, furious that his guest - an angel under his protection - had been trapped on the ground like an animal.

The two goons blocking his view of Gabriel were the first to fall.

Gabriel scowled up at him. “Jack, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Jack shot another goon and scowled back. “What does it look like? I came back for you, asshole!”

“I’m fine,” the beautiful bastard insisted. “Got them right where I want them.”

Two more fell to Jack’s rifle. “You _want_ to be pinned on the ground by a magic net?” he asked scathingly. “Because that doesn’t look like fine, Gabe!” He glared at the angel and almost absently shot another goon in the face, noticing as he did that some of the remaining troops had taken hold of the net and were starting to drag Gabriel away.

“I can handle it, but I told you to go! So you would be _safe!”_

Jack tried to close the distance to the angel, but had to hit a goon in the helmet with the butt of his rifle and then shoot him while he was stunned. “Are you saying I’m not safe with you?” he asked dryly.

He had the barest glimpse of red flaring on the angel’s arm before Gabriel suddenly surged up like a whirlwind of black and silver, the edging on his feathers now sharp as a razor as they sliced through the strands of the net as if they were no more than spiderwebs. There was a flash, almost too fast for Jack to see except as an afterimage that traced an arc through the syndicate troops surrounding him. They began to fall, torsos toppling away from legs, as Gabriel charged him with murder written all over his face. The silver rings around his irises blazed, but what they contained was no longer a warm brown. The Archangel’s eyes smoldered red, like a pair of dying suns, and they trapped Jack so utterly that he didn’t even see what was in Gabriel’s hands before there was a wind by his right cheek, a wet sound, and then he was staring in horror at the goon who had been about to stab him with - was that a demon blade? - as he collapsed, sliced neatly in half, falling open like a particularly macabre fruit with entrails flopping everywhere and blood spurting from the cut halves, drenching both pieces of the corpse.

**_Archangel._ **

If Jack had thought he understood Gabriel’s might before, he was sadly mistaken because this...this was not the Gabriel Jack knew and tolerated. This was not an affectionate asshole who lived in his apartment with him. This was an inhuman being of unimaginable power, God’s hand reaching out to smite, a creature with neither pity nor remorse. A blood-drenched immortal with power dripping from his fingertips. Wisps of silver trailed away from him like smoke, black flames dancing over his skin. The ebony of his feathers was now the lightless black of the void, ruby flecks looking like drops of blood. The Kevlar jacket had darkened, thickened, and was now more of a cape that clasped over his chest with a deep hood throwing his face into shadow. Those red and silver eyes burned from under the hood, chilling Jack to the bone, and in an effort to look anywhere but at them, he tore his gaze away to what the Archangel held.

A scythe that glowed with an ethereal blacklight.

The crescent blade was dark as despair, polished and engraved with glowing red characters Jack only vaguely suspected were angelic. The haft in the Archangel’s hands was a brutal gunmetal color, covered with the same thorny black vines of his tattoo. They snaked from the head to the pommel, a thick spearhead cut out of an enormous ruby with a light in its heart that flickered and danced like a living thing, a fire or maybe a trapped soul. Jack’s gaze traveled down the haft and back up, stopping at the spiked gauntlets Gabriel now wore. Desperate to see something familiar, he jerked his eyes to the tattoo on the angel’s arm and saw that the red spider lilies were still there, glowing softly and swaying in a breeze that didn’t exist.

The image triggered a long-forgotten memory from his childhood and Jack remembered a time when he played in his grandmother’s garden while she tended to her flowers. He had complimented her lilies and she replied to him with a kind smile and a soft voice: _‘Lilies are flowers for the dead, Jack. I’ll be cutting these tonight to bring to your grandfather tomorrow morning.’_

“Gabe?” Jack whispered in an attempt to distract himself, his throat closing around that one word.

The Archangel looked at him, but there was no recognition in those red eyes - only rage and power, and for a fleeting moment Jack wondered if he _was_ safe with the angel, after all. Then that terrifying, inhuman gaze shifted to something over Jack’s shoulder, and he turned to see a lone goon scampering off to escape. Something shot past his head and Jack realized it was the pommel of the scythe, trailing a black chain as it flew after the goon and wrapped around his neck, catching against the chain to lock into place. A jerk of Gabriel’s powerful arms sent the goon flying back towards them as the chain retracted, a choking sort of scream coming from the man as he kicked and thrashed, both hands clinging to the chain around his neck until it let go and he fell to his knees before the Archangel.

Human, Jack saw. Gabriel lifted his scythe as the man babbled out pleas for his life, protests that it was only a job so that he could feed his family.

The scythe came down.

“Gabriel, stop!”

The man cringed, both hands on his head, the curved blade a finger’s width above them.

“He’s begging for his life, Gabe!”

Gabriel said nothing and Jack took his courage in both hands, stepping forward to place one hand on the angel’s arm, gently urging the blade away from the terrified man.

“If you kill him,” Jack reasoned, struggling not let his voice quiver from the mortal fear he felt in the presence of the Archangel of Death. “we’ll lose our chance to get information out of him. Who called the raid, what their goal was, anything. He’ll tell us everything he knows in exchange for his life.”

“And then he’ll call in more troops to kill you.” The angel’s voice was a hollow rasp.

“I won’t,” the man promised, crying out of fear. “I promise! I just want to get home to my family!”

Jack reached into that black hood and laid his hand on Gabriel’s neck, fingers caressing the XXIV tattooed there as he urged the angel’s head to turn and look at him, ignoring the way those crimson eyes made his stomach churn. “The man’s got a family, Gabe,” he said quietly. “Please.”

Something flickered across the angel’s face.

“You’re too trusting, Jack,” Gabriel rasped, but the scythe lifted away from the man. “You have one chance,” he growled at the cowering human. “I will not repeat myself. Speak, mortal.”

“The order came from Maximilien.” The words came out in a rush. “He’s one of the top businessmen in the country, and the heart of the black market. If you want something, and have the money for it, he can get it for you. We were to secure the ballerina angel and bring her in alive.”

“What does he want with angels?” Jack asked, not taking his hands off Gabriel’s skin. The Archangel was burning underneath his touch and the tips of his fingers buzzed dully with something electric that slithered underneath Gabriel’s skin.

The man shook his head. “He didn’t tell us. We didn’t need to know, just that his client wanted the target alive.”

Jack swallowed disappointment, but there was no use pressing for information that wasn’t there. These were just grunts, here to do the dirty work.

Gabriel stirred. “What about your portal devices? I sensed angelic energy from them.”

“We were only told how to use them.” The man held his hands up in a gesture of disavowal. “We don’t get paid to ask questions. Asking questions is a good way to get killed. We follow orders, collect, deliver, and go home with our money.”

“What else can you tell us about Maximilien?” Jack asked, letting his hand fall from Gabriel’s neck. “Where can we find him?”

The man spat out an address. “But it’s a fortress,” he warned them. “Even the best black ops in the country wouldn’t be able to get in without getting caught.”

“Fair enough.” Jack nodded at Gabriel. “Good enough for me.”

The angel slammed the scythe into the ground and jerked his chin at the trembling human at his feet. “Get up.”

When the man just stared in fear, he reached forward and grabbed the front of the man’s armor, hauling him to his feet without any visible effort.

“Repent, mortal,” the Archangel commanded. “Go home to your family and turn your back on this profession. If you ever harm innocents again, I will not stay my hand.”

“I understand,” sobbed the man.

“Thy sins are forgiven. Now scram.”

Gabriel released the man, who stumbled backwards a few steps before bowing and walking shakily away, stripping off his armor and gear as he went.

With the immediate danger passed, the adrenaline that had kept Jack going drained away and he swayed before his legs turned to rubber and he sat with a grunt for his cracked rib. And his bruises. His everywhere hurt and he felt like he could sleep for a week.

Gabriel knelt in front of him, one gauntleted hand half reaching towards him. “Are you okay?”

“A cracked rib and one hell of a beating.” Jack breathed slowly, in and out, wincing. “I’ve had worse.” Too tired to be afraid anymore, he looked the angel in his dying-star eyes. “So. Archangel of Death. I can see why you didn’t tell me.”

Those red eyes blinked and then looked away from him. “I’ll understand if you want me to move out,” he said quietly in that hollow rasp.

“Who said anything about you moving out?” Jack asked in confusion.

“I’m a monster.”

“You’re an asshole, Gabe. Not a monster. The same asshole who almost burned down my apartment and showed me one hell of a good time five thousand feet in the air.”

“But now you’ve seen the real me,” Gabriel insisted.

“And now I understand why you like the clothes from Hot Topic,” Jack agreed.

Gabriel frowned at him. “Why aren’t you scared of me? Of...what I am?”

“Me? Scared of Gabriel the Wraith?” Jack asked, one eyebrow arched. “I took the same man shopping for furniture and clothes and taught him how to work a stove. Why would I be scared of him?”

“Ja-“

“Patron of the arts, God’s shadow, spymaster and executioner, Archangel of Death. Impressive resume.” Jack was blabbering now as he motioned at the scythe but it was obvious that his exhaustion was starting to pull him under. “And that’s a gorgeous weapon, by the way.”

Gabriel smiled as he turned to admire the scythe. “Death Blossom, one of the cardinal weapons of God. Each Archangel has one, and none but us can use them.”

“What happens if I touch it?” Jack asked, heartened by the warm expression on Gabriel’s face.

“You’ll turn to ash,” the angel answered. Then he smirked at Jack. “Kidding. You just won’t be able to lift it; it weighs a literal ton in anyone’s hands but mine.”

Despite the crimson eyes and imposing armor, despite the black flames and silver smoke, it was still Gabriel. Gabriel, the arrogant asshole who worried about him. The angel who had come, furious, to Jack’s rescue.

“Almost as gorgeous as its owner,” Jack said softly.

The smirk flickered out in confusion. “Jack, what-”

Jack leaned in, closing the distance to the angel’s lips but a hand on his chest stopped him.

“Think about what you’re doing,” Gabriel said solemnly. “Don’t play games with an Archangel.”

Hurt confusion flashed through Jack. “You think I’m playing?”

“I think you haven’t thought about the consequences of your actions, Jackie.”

Anger took the place of the confusion. “You know I hate that nickname.”

“I know.”

“And I know you hate being called Gabe.”

“What’s your point?” Gabriel asked warily.

“Why do you let me call you that?”

The angel looked away.

“You like me,” Jack murmured in stunned realization. He hadn’t expected that to be true, not to this extent. Fond of him, yes. Friends, maybe. Actually interested? Never. “You _like_ me,” he repeated. “So why...?”

“Because you’re mortal!” Gabriel shot back, crimson eyes blazing with something that wasn’t anger. “You’ll live another forty, maybe sixty years, and then you’ll _die_ and I’ll have nothing of you but memories!”

Jack opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He hadn’t expected the Archangel to care about him that much, not in a thousand years, but Gabriel was right. He _hadn’t_ thought about the consequences. Of course, Gabriel was millennia older than him; of course, he would have to be wary of getting attached to someone with a shorter lifespan. That didn’t do anything to ease the aching of his heart, though, and he could see sorrow in Gabriel’s eyes for having hurt him.

With a gesture, the angel banished his scythe. The armor reverted to normal, his eyes went from red to warm brown, and he was back to being just Gabriel the angel.

“You’re wounded,” Gabriel said quietly. “Let’s get you to the hospital.”

Jack nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and hugged his pulse rifle to his chest.

“Commander.”

Both of them looked up as the elder vampire jogged into view, nearly invisible in his dark tactical gear. The bow he held in one hand was polished to a satin sheen - wood or steel or fiberglass or something else, Jack wasn’t sure. He’d never asked and given the chance of it being some unnatural material, he wasn’t certain he even wanted to know. Certainly, the quiver of blue-feathered arrows was non-standard, with the way the vanes glowed under moonlight and street lamp.

The things he’d seen Hanzo do...

Well. Anyone who mocked the vampire for bringing a bow to a gun fight would soon learn their mistake and it was the last one they ever made.

“Oxton reports that she and Amelie brought Captain Amari to the hospital with no further incident. The perimeter is clear. No enemy combatants survived.”

Gabriel frowned. “The man who took his gear off...”

“I saw him.” Hanzo gave the angel a curt nod. “He made it safely out.”

Jack relaxed slightly. “And your brother?”

“In the hospital as well,” he answered crisply. No beating around the bush; Jack always did like that about the vampire. You always knew where you stood with him. “His wounds will take some time to heal, but he is stable.”

“Good,” Jack said with a nod. “I’m headed there myself, but could you collect a couple of those teleporters they were using? I want to know who made them. We should also call in the clean-up crew.”

“Wait,” Gabriel said, standing. As the other two watched, he picked through the bodies until he found the one he was looking for and stood up with a device of some sort in his hands. “This apparently measures an angel’s power levels,” he said as he held it out to the vampire. “I want to know who made _that_ , too.”

Hanzo accepted the device and nodded. “I will gather as many teleporters as I can find and report immediately should I find anything else...noteworthy.”

“Good,” Jack said in relief. “Thank you. It’s been a long night.”

He started to struggle to his feet, but Gabriel was suddenly there lifting him into his arms.

“I’m bringing you to your healers,” he growled, settling Jack into a bridal carry. “No arguments.”

“No arguments,” Jack agreed, remembering with twin pangs of excitement and despair that the angel _liked_ him but would not act on it. Sulky and exhausted, he laid his head on Gabriel’s shoulder and held onto his rifle as those magnificent red-flecked, silver-edged ebony wings spread to their full extension.

One massive downbeat and a simultaneous jump later, they were climbing into the sky and Jack let his eyes slip shut, secure and relaxed in Death’s embrace.


	5. Memories, Not Regrets

**Chapter V: Memories, Not Regrets**

Jack sat in the waiting room, nursing a cup of lukewarm coffee and a broken heart.

Maybe that was a little dramatic, he admitted silently, but he had no better phrase for the emotional turmoil he was working through while waiting for Ana to come out of surgery. Genji’s wounds, while pretty severe, would heal completely given enough time and blood. The nurses couldn’t tell him much, but they did confirm that Ana’s right eye was a complete loss. She had no other major wounds, thankfully - some severe bruising and sprains from her fall, but nothing broken. Gabriel hadn’t even stuck around to learn that much; he’d dropped Jack off into the care of the emergency room personnel and left with some story about a broken window. Jack suspected he just didn’t want to be around to look him in the eyes, and he couldn’t blame the angel - he didn’t exactly want to see Gabriel’s silver-ringed irises right now, either.

So there he was, having been looked over and given a fairly clean bill of health, sitting in a waiting room at seven in the morning with nothing to do but think about how much of a failure he was and blame himself for everything that had happened in the last six hours.

Sure, he’d succeeded in keeping Amelie from getting snatched by the syndicate goons, but in all honesty she would have been fine on her own. All he’d done was make her hesitate before getting herself to safety. Genji’s wounds? His fault for underestimating the enemy. Ana’s eye? His fault. His cracked rib? His own damn fault. Amelie had gotten hurt fetching Gabriel, and then she’d come _back_ into danger to tell the Archangel where he was, and he’d had to be saved by Gabriel not once, but _twice,_ because he was the dumbass who thought the Archangel of Death needed protection.

Nothing made your whole life look like a failure, he thought bitterly, like being saved by the very beings you made it your life’s work to protect, and then having your affections reciprocated but rejected because you’re a mayfly in your would-be boyfriend’s lifespan. He chugged the rest of his coffee, wishing it were something stronger. Gabriel’s craft beers had been the strongest thing Jack had indulged in since the Archangel walked into his life, mainly because he didn’t want to risk being drunk if someone came after his guest, but it was abundantly clear that Archangels didn’t need pathetic little humans to protect them.

Deadlock opened at eleven. Ashe wouldn’t care that he was drinking that early; she never cared when or why one of her regulars was drinking, as long as they paid and right now, Jack _really_ needed to drown himself in a bottle.

~/~/~/~

“Hey,” Jack said softly as Ana’s left eye flickered open. She was propped up in the hospital bed, a thick pressure bandage covering nearly a third of her face - and, of course, her now-empt right eye socket. “How do you feel?”

“Fuzzy,” she murmured slowly. “Genji?”

“Still unconscious,” he answered. “Healing coma. Apparently that’s normal for near-immortals. Most of his wounds weren’t a big deal, but the stake that missed his heart was coated with an enchanted poison, and it’s going to take some time to synthesize a blessed antidote for him, but he’ll make a full recovery.”

Although still unfocused from the lingering effects of the anesthesia, Ana’s eye somehow managed to look piercingly at him. “How are _you?”_

“Tired,” he said truthfully. “A bit banged up, but I’ve had worse.” When Ana said nothing more, he continued in hopes of keeping her distracted. “We got a name behind the operation: Maximilien. I’m running him through the system now, and we picked up a couple of those teleporter things to send to Sombra. I figure the novelty will be enough to put us at the top of her list, and hopefully she’ll be able to figure out who made them.”

The young witch with a flair for spell-enhanced technology didn’t come cheap, and her time couldn’t always be bought if she didn’t like you, or if your request was “boring”. If you managed to bring her something truly interesting, however, she sometimes slashed her fees with the explanation that you’d paid in information.

“You’ll tell me what she finds?” Ana asked.

“Of course,” Jack assured her. “The nurses said you’ll be going home this evening. Maybe I’ll ask Gabriel to drop by with dinner.”

She frowned at him. “What about you?”

“The office,” he said. “Like usual. You know me.”

“Jack...”

“Lots of paperwork you and Genji aren’t in any state to fill out,” he continued. “And our intel says Maximilien was the middleman for someone with enough money to throw dozens of lives at capturing one angel, so that needs to be looked into.”

“Jack, this wasn’t your fault.”

He looked away, biting back the protest that it _was_ his fault for underestimating the other side. They had this argument every time one of his officers got hurt, only this time, the one who’d suffered was his best friend.

“I’m putting you and Genji on paid leave,” he said finally.

Ana frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re working this case by yourself.”

“Hanzo has volunteered to step in. He’s understandably upset about what happened to his brother. Amelie is staying with Satya for the time being, and I’m not sure there’s any power on Earth that could keep Gabriel from investigating this case.”

That got him a disapproving frown. “Gabriel is a civilian, Jack.”

A laugh burst out of him, dark and bitter. “No, he’s not. He is _in no way_ a civilian. He just doesn’t have a badge yet.”

“Yet?” Ana managed to cram a whole paragraph of scathing commentary into that one word.

“I’m deputizing him.” Jack dared her with his eyes to argue. “I should have done it a while ago. It’s his fight, too. Those are _his_ people being hunted.”

Ana held the glare for a moment longer, then sighed. “I don’t like it, but it’s not my decision to make.” She grimaced. “And I’m not in a position to argue, myself. Even with the aid of alchemical healing, it will take weeks for my eye to heal enough to make a decision regarding it.”

“I promise to keep you in the loop,” Jack said, reaching out to carefully squeeze her hand.

“Promise you won’t punish yourself for this?” Ana said quietly, her left eye pleading with him to say yes.

 _It’s not this I’ll be punishing myself for,_ Jack thought. He gave her a weak smile. “I’ll try.”

~/~/~/~

It took some work to find someone who would repair a broken window at four-thirty in the morning, but some intense conversations with the landlord and the building superintendent and a little angel gold later, Gabriel was supervising the installation of a new window and making sure all the broken glass from the old one had been cleaned up. When it was done, he reached for his phone to text Jack-

No. Jack was either still being looked over by the hospital staff, or he was checking on his wounded underlings, and the last thing he needed was to be bothered by the angel who had rejected his advances a few short hours ago. Gabriel scrawled a note on the pad of paper that hung on the fridge, letting his host know that the window had been repaired and that he was checking on the confiscated syndicate technology, and then he texted Hanzo Shimada.

Gabriel appreciated the vampire’s crisp, professional attitude. He was intelligent and concise, neither wasting words nor omitting details, and there was a part of Gabriel that wished he could recruit Hanzo - but of course, only angels could enter the angelic realm, so it was not meant to be. Still, it made for a smooth transition from ‘interested party’ to ‘active investigator’ because as much as he appreciated the ease of working with Hanzo, he was pleasantly surprised to discover that the vampire enjoyed working with him, as well. Hanzo texted back that he was at the station, and Gabriel put the new window to use as a convenient exit - although he did hover just outside and pull the thing shut again before flying off.

He found the vampire in some sort of evidence room, scanning the confiscated devices with various pieces of technology to create holographic models of them.

“Those things gave off angelic energy,” he said, pointing to one of the teleporters. “Not much, but I felt it. Have you heard from the witch?”

“I delivered the sample devices myself,” Hanzo said absently as he finished the scan. “She seemed eager to examine them and assured me that she would be in touch as soon as she discovered anything.” He glanced up at the Archangel. “Why was there a single enemy removing his armor and leaving the scene?”

Gabriel kept his eyes on the teleporter. “He offered information in exchange for his life.” And Jack, his beautiful and brave human, had faced down the Archangel of Death without a single thought for his own safety - or, perhaps, had chosen to put his life in Gabriel’s hands. “They were hired by a man named Maximilien, who apparently has a reputation for being able to obtain anything so long as the purchaser is able to pay for it.”

Hanzo frowned. “I know of him. He is indeed a known dealer in... exotic merchandise.” The last words were uttered in a tone of complete disdain.

“Is that what we are, now?” muttered Gabriel.

“Your people are not the only ones who have been hunted and sold,” the vampire said, scowling at his instruments. “There are members of my clan who vanished, never to be heard from again.”

Gabriel studied Hanzo’s expression, noting the red ring that had bloomed around his dark irises. The vampire was throttling back great rage. “Someone you knew?” he asked quietly.

“My mother.”

“Do you want this guy’s blood?” Gabriel picked up a broken teleporter and turned it over in his hands. “I’ll save you the kill.”

Hanzo shook his head. “It was not he who ordered or carried out the abduction,” he said evenly. “My brother and I avenged our mother centuries ago. But stay your hand anyway - Maximilien is a dealer in all goods, including information. He will talk so long as it is paid for or use it to barter.”

“Leading us to whoever shelled out for a live angel,” Gabriel said, nodding. “Good point.”

“If they had body cameras - I have not yet had a chance to check for such - then news of a powerful new angel may well be making its way across the underworld as we speak.”

Gabriel frowned down at the device in his hands. Hanzo hadn’t seen him with Death Blossom, and the troops he’s killed had only seen it for the barest second before toppling over, but even a second would be enough to identify him and he had no doubt that Maximilien would have offered that information to his disappointed client. Absently, he pushed at a broken plate and then squinted at the inside of it. Was that...?

Carefully, he pried the plate off and placed it on the scanning pad. A wordless glance at Hanzo, and the vampire pressed buttons on his device. It took a moment for the scanning to complete, and then Gabriel was examining the enlarged holographic projection.

There were angelic runes etched into the inside of the plate.

“That witch we’re waiting on,” he began, narrowed eyes fixed on the holograph.

“Sombra.”

“Yeah, her. I need to talk to her.”

~/~/~/~

“You must be the new angel,” the young hispanic woman said, glancing briefly up from her monitor, her fingers never stopping their _click click click_ as she typed rapidly. The long, purple nails on her fingers glowed slightly. “I thought I said I’d be in touch.”

“Something new came up,” Gabriel said, arms crossed. Beside him, Hanzo gave her a respectful bow. “I came to see if you’re really as good as your reputation.”

Silence fell as Sombra’s fingers stilled, and she glared at him. “You doubting me, _cabron?”_

“Challenging,” he corrected. “I think _you_ believe you’re really that good-”

“I’m the best,” she corrected, purple eyes narrowed in an unfriendly manner.

“-but I’ve encountered too many people with inflated egos, and the lives of my people are at stake, so I’m not taking anything at face value because the only one I really trust to do shit right is myself.”

Sombra stared at him for a long moment. “For an angel,” she said finally, “you’re kind of an asshole.”

“I’m an Arch-asshole,” he informed her, smirking. “Now. What have you found on the teleporters?”

“You mean, _besides_ the angelic runes on the inside surface of the shell?” Sombra asked dryly.

Gabriel’s smirk widened. “Oh good, you might be as good as they say you are after all. So, you recognized them as angelic runes? I’m guessing you have a pretty extensive database. Were you able to translate them?”

“You want a printout?” Sombra spat.

He waved the idea away. “Of course not. I’m fully literate in the holy script of my own people.” The smirk died, leaving him grim-faced and somber. “The demon on the police force, however, could not say the same thing. But if you have a database of angelic symbols, then you must have an even better database of demonic runes, correct?”

Despite her irritation, Sombra looked intrigued. “You are correct. What do you need?”

Hanzo offered her a thumb drive. “Scans of the corpse found a week and a half ago.”

The witch took the drive and caressed it, nails flaring brighter. Moments later, the holograph of the body floated in mid-air. With those glowing fingernails she plucked the carved runes off the body and sorted them out, dismissing the rest of the corpse. “Interesting,” she murmured.

“I can translate the angelic runes,” Gabriel said quietly. “They’re taken from the verses sung as part of our funeral rites to ensure the angel’s soul...goes where it needs to go,” he finished, deciding at the last second that mortals did not need to know about the Vault. “But I can’t translate the demonic runes.”

It was Sombra’s turn to smirk. “I can. The question is...why should I?”

“I want to know why my people are being hunted and who’s hunting them.”

“That’s you,” she said dismissively. “Not me.”

She had spirit; he could appreciate that. “I could always threaten destruction of your equipment.”

“You do and I’ll kill you,” she retorted without missing a beat.

Gabriel chuckled. “I invite you to try.”

Purple eyes glittered. “There’s worse things than death. Molting, for example.”

His humor died. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“She would,” Hanzo interjected carefully. “She once cursed Genji for a full month when he used her system to book free plane tickets.”

“Cursed him how?” Gabriel asked, curious.

“When he fed, only half of it went where it was supposed to,” Hanzo answered delicately.

Sombra smirked. “He dribbled blood on his dates. Ruined clothes, sheets, and his chances of getting any action.”

“Elegant,” Gabriel said approvingly. “A petty punishment for a petty crime.”

“Right? You come from a filthy rich yakuza vampire clan, and you don’t want to shell out for plane tickets? Fine, you can spend your vacation coming off like a complete idiot. See how much you enjoy your free flights,” she finished, crossing her arms.

Gabriel grinned. “I _like_ you.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she admitted grudgingly.

“So. The demonic runes?”

Sombra sat up and gestured the holograms into two clusters. “They also deal with souls, but going the other way: putting one into a body, not taking it out.”

Gabriel cursed under his breath. “Give and take,” he ground out. “Someone’s going to pay for that.”

Hanzo arched one eyebrow at him. “Give and take?”

“Latin carved on the corpse,” Sombra supplied.

“And the runes were carved in three places,” Gabriel continued. “The forehead, the chest, and the stomach. E nomine patris...”

“...et filii, et spiritus sancti,” finished Sombra. “The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”

The vampire’s lip wrinkled. “They are mocking God.” he spat in distaste.

“Worse,” Gabriel corrected grimly, glaring at the runes. “They’re trying to revive the dead by taking an angel’s life and pouring it into someone else.” His fingers itched to pull out Death Blossom and deliver God’s judgment with a swift execution. That was his responsibility; that was his _purpose_. “This is punishable by death.”

Someone was going to die for this transgression and he was going to be the one to kill them.

~/~/~/~

It was almost one by the time Sombra finished her examination of the syndicate devices and Gabriel took his leave, promising to keep in touch with both witch and vampire as he prepared to fly back to Jack’s apartment. The human still hadn’t contacted him, which was worrying for more than one reason. He tried to convince himself that Jack had just opted to sleep - neither of them had gotten much rest last night, and a nap was looking very good to Gabriel - but the guilt still gnawed at him, whispering that Jack hadn’t texted or called because he didn’t _want_ to.

When he entered the apartment (by the door; Jack had given him a spare key) and discovered it empty of stubborn, beautiful humans, any tiredness he had been feeling evaporated in a wave of concern.

Ana picked up on the third ring.

“Is Jack with you?” Gabriel asked, not bothering to say hello first.

 _“No.”_ He could almost hear Ana’s frown. _“He visited me earlier, when I got out of surgery, but that was hours ago. Fareeha texted me asking when I would be released, so I assume he stopped by to let her know what had happened, but...”_

“I’ve been with Hanzo and Sombra, investigating the teleporters,” Gabriel told her, pacing in the kitchen. “I don’t think he’s been back to the apartment yet…” He broke off, thinking hard. “His clothes were soiled. He couldn’t go out in public like that.” Quickly, he checked the bathroom hamper and then peered into Jack’s bedroom, but the clothes Jack had been wearing were nowhere to be found.

 _“He keeps a change of clothes in his office,”_ Ana informed him. _“With everything that happened, he would probably throw out the ones he had been wearing. And he did,”_ she added, sounding doubtful, _“say that he would likely be there long into the evening doing paperwork.”_

“You don’t sound like you believe that,” Gabriel said dryly.

_“I’m not sure I do. Jack has a tendency to punish himself for any injury his officers sustain in the line of duty, among other reasons.”_

The Archangel frowned. “Punish himself how?”

There was a pause where Ana could have been sighing or making a face at her friend. _“Drinking too much, alone, and wallowing in his guilt.”_

The glass bottles clustered by Jack’s bed, empty and discarded, suddenly acquired an unhappy significance.

“But he’s not here,” Gabriel said slowly. “Would he drink in his office?”

_“No. He takes his responsibilities too seriously.”_

“Then where...?”

 _“I don’t know,”_ Ana sighed. _“I know he has a favorite bar, but he’s never told me the name of it or where it is.”_

Even more concerned than when he’d first called, Gabriel thanked her and hung up.

Before heading back out, Gabriel sent Jack a text. Nothing too emotional, just a simple alert that he and Hanzo had visited Sombra and had news, if he hadn’t already heard it from the vampire. As he flew to the station, he kept his phone in hand, checking frequently for a response - but there wasn’t one by the time he landed on Jack’s balcony, and when he let himself inside, the office was empty. A little locker in the corner was open, some kind of weapons-and-coat closet, but while the human’s pistols and protective vest had been put back in their places, there was nothing else there. If this was where Jack kept his change of clothes, he’d already been and gone.

Jack’s computer was turned off. His little trashcan was empty, but Gabriel doubted the clothes would have fit inside it anyway.

Gabriel checked the outer office, where Ana and the others had their desks, and startled the fairy. She informed him that Commander Morrison had come in around eight to fetch his change of clothes and dispose of the old ones. He’d done paperwork for an hour and then left, and she thought he’d gone home to sleep. Gabriel gave her a vague line about having been with Hanzo working on the case and left her with the implication that he hadn’t been back to the apartment, either.

As he rode the elevator down to the lobby of the building, he texted Jack again.

_Going to pick up some lunch before heading back to the apartment. Can I get you anything?_

He strolled down the block to a pizza place and bought two slices and a soda to eat outside. Jack still hadn’t texted by the time he was done, and as he threw his trash away, Gabriel thought about his next moves.

He wanted to text Jack and ask if the human was angry with him. But at the same time, that was the last thing he wanted to do, because what if the answer was yes? What if Jack was so angry with him that he no longer felt any affection for him?

What if he’d ruined everything by being an asshole?

Gabriel flung himself into the air, fighting for elevation as if the struggle could resolve the emotional turmoil he felt. The entire flight back to the apartment was spent brutally reconsidering what he’d thought were his priorities, because he was discovering that between ‘Jack no longer even tolerates me’ and ‘Jack won’t let me help on the investigation’, he was more concerned with the human’s feelings and less with avenging the angels who had been tortured and killed in the name of defying God.

If he had not completely ruined Jack’s opinion of him, he was going to have to make some changes in his behavior.

The apartment was just as empty as when he’d left, and Gabriel paced anxiously through every room. He knew what he needed to do, but actually doing it...

The Archangel of Death had finally found something that struck fear into his heart, and it was the rejection of a beautiful, stubborn, frail mortal. But to make it worse, that fear might already be in action because it was him who rejected Jack first.

Standing in Jack’s room, looking at the _I tolerate you_ shirt hanging out of one dresser drawer, Gabriel screwed up his courage and called Jack’s number.

One ring; his heart thudded in his chest.

Two; he swallowed nervously.

Three; despair raised its head because Jack wasn’t going to pick up-

 _“Hello, asshole,”_ drawled a female voice.

Instantly, the fear transmuted into rage. “Who is this?”

 _“The name’s Ashe,”_ she informed him smugly. _“Who’re you, and what did you do that poor ‘lil ‘ol Jackie put you in his phone as Asshole?”_

“Don’t call him that,” Gabriel snapped reflexively. “He hates that. And I _am_ an asshole; he doesn’t need a reason past that. How did you get his phone unlocked? Only his fingerprints-”

 _“Well, now, ain’t that just the funniest coincidence?”_ Ashe purred, her voice as sweet as poisoned sugar. _“Fingerprints still work, even when the one they’re attached to is unconscious.”_

“What did you do to him?” Gabriel demanded, eyes blazing.

_“I didn’t do a gosh-darned thing. He did it all to himself.”_

“WHAT-”

 _“He’s drunk, sweetheart,”_ she said sharply. _“And if you’re so god-damned worried about him, then you can come drag his sorry carcass home, because he got up to use the men’s room and didn’t make it. I’ve got already-used whiskey and nachos all over my nice, wooden floor, and I got the feeling there’s a round two just waiting to be unleashed. So, either you come and get him and pay his tab - plus extra for my floor - or I’m gonna sit him in the dumpster like the trash he is, regular customer or no.”_

“Tell me where to find him,” Gabriel growled, holding his temper in check only because Jack was still in this woman’s power.

 _“Deadlock Bar and Grill,”_ she snapped back. _“I’ll text you the address if that’ll make it easier.”_

“Please do,” he replied angrily.

The line went dead. A few seconds later, a text came in with the address.

Gabriel sighed, fury once again turned into concern. “Damn it, Jack.”

~/~/~/~

The bar, it turned out, was an easy walk from Jack’s apartment building. That fact sat in Gabriel’s belly like a stone as he made his way there, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie and the hood pulled up over his head as if it would grant him refuge from his emotions. Being a regular at a bar so close to his home meant Jack had chosen the establishment at least partially for being able to find his way back while inebriated, and that spoke volumes about how often he drank - and under what circumstances. Ana didn’t know where he went, which meant he was hiding it from his closest friend. The bottles clustered by his bed - Jack Daniels, the labels read - haunted him. His human, his beautiful and compassionate human, drank alone and he drank to forget. But then Gabriel had come into his life, and he hadn’t needed the comfort of the bottle until the angel had turned him down.

So much for placing the human under his protection. Gabriel vowed that from now on, he’d do better - assuming Jack let him.

A small bell jingled as he pushed the door open and walked in, feeling like the lead to a bad joke. _An Archangel walks into a bar...the bartender says, ‘Hello, asshole.’_ The nice wooden floors caught his attention first, with the way they had been polished until they fairly gleamed. Brightly-colored woven cloth...somethings...hung on the walls, and a great horned skull was mounted behind the bar. Wooden tables and chairs were scattered about, but only one of them was occupied with a familiar figure that slumped over onto the table. Signs nearby read DAMES and GENTS, and there was an impressively burly figure mopping the floor. And there, in front of the bar with her hands on her hips, was the woman he assumed was Ashe.

She was slender, in the way a mongoose is slender: for agility and speed rather than beauty. Her boots came up to her knees and looked like she could break shins with them, her white hair pulled back in an elaborate arrangement of loops. A pink jacket hid her bust but put her thighs on display as it trailed down to the backs of her knees, almost the only color on her, set off by sheer white leggings and white kid gloves. She paced towards him as though stalking her prey and stopped just out of reach, arms crossed, to size him up.

Her eyes were red as blood.

“I’m the asshole,” Gabriel growled.

“So, I gathered,” she said, tugging one glove off and offering him a manicured hand, nails matching her jacket.

Gabriel took it to shake, but the instant his skin touched hers he pulled his hand back at the burning jolt that brief touch sparked, the barest fraction of his energy flowing out against his will.

“Succubus,” he spat.

Ashe laughed. “Nothing personal, sweetheart. I just _had_ to see what sort of person had gotten Jackie’s attention. He’s only ever been interested in one-night stands, but you...” She laughed again, a mocking note in the sound. “Must’ve been one hell of a son of a gun. You know what his ringtone is for you? _You Give Love A Bad Name._ ”

“If you touched him...”

“No worries there,” she said, scorn dripping from every word as she tugged her glove back on. “I don’t sleep with the customers. Can you imagine it? Sleeping with a human?” Those red eyes narrowed. “But then again...you _are_ imagining it, aren’t you? Well, not me. I’m here to run a business, and humans _always_ drink more when they want something they can’t have.” Her lips curved into a smugly predatory smile. “Always suspected Jack had a thing for angels, with how much he has a knack for protecting them. But you don’t need his protection, do you?”

“No,” he ground out, stung by the comment about humans wanting something they can’t have. Was this more than Jack punishing himself out of guilt? Had he done this to his human?

 _His human._ The thought made his heart skip and tear into pieces at the same time, for he, too, had something he cannot have.

“I thought as much. In all my six hundred years walking this godforsaken human landfill, you’re the first angel I’ve tasted - but I can tell that comparing you to the human-loving pacifists flitting around would be like comparing a pussycat to a panther.” The lazy drawl fell away and in a brisk tone, she said, “Anyway, enough with the smalltalk. Your boytoy drank a full bottle of Jack and puked on my floor. Pay his tab and get him out of here before he does it again, or I’ll have Bob put him in the dumpster and ban him.”

The burly figure turned, hearing his name, and Gabriel realized that not only was he much taller and broader than a human, but he _wasn’t_ a human. The symbols on his forehead combined with his crude features, proclaimed him a golem.

Gabriel turned back to Ashe. “How much?”

“Two-fifty.” She threw the number down like she expected him to argue, but Gabriel was done playing games with her.

Then again, he thought, remembering how badly he’d been judged based on his clothing. Maybe just one more game.

“Do you take angel gold?” His tone said that he expected the answer to be no and wasn’t surprised. Disappointed, but not surprised.

Ashe’s ruby eyes widened. “You can’t be serious.”

“It’s a simple question,” he said, looking down at her with all the ego he could muster. “If you don’t, there’s no shame. I have plenty in my bank account.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew the card.

“Two-fifty even if you pay in angel gold.” Ashe blurted.

Given the relative rarity of angel gold, each coin was worth far more than its printed value. Two hundred in angel gold would fetch at least ten times that much on a demonic market. Gabriel grinned and gestured. With a flash of golden light, a small sack materialized on his palm and he tossed to Ashe, who fairly snatched it out of the air. The gold inside jingled with a chime.

“Keep the change.” he told her with a shit-eating grin.

Ashe cleared her throat. “Bob? Would you be so kind as to help Commander Morrison over to his very handsome and generous friend here?”

The golem made a sort of humming sound and nodded, abandoning his mop to pick Jack up as though he were a naughty child and carry him over. He held the human out and gently set him on his feet, enormous hands around his shoulders holding him gently up. Jack blinked blearily at Gabriel, who tugged the human’s arm around his shoulders and wrapped his arm around Jack’s waist, easily supporting the man’s weight as Bob let go.

“A pleasure doing business,” Ashe purred. “Jack, do feel free to come back and get wasted any time your boyfriend is here to pay the bill. Does the heart good to let all that emotion out, you know?”

Gabriel grimaced, only partially because Jack reeked of vomit. Jack didn’t respond and Gabriel made a sound of distaste as he brushed past her and out the door, half-dragging his human along. Once outside, the fresh air seemed to wake Jack up a little and he made an effort to walk as Gabriel directed them to the nearest alley.

“You’re a mess,” the angel sighed as they ducked between two buildings. “But it’s my fault, so...”

“My fault,” Jack repeated, the words slurring. “All my fault.”

That wasn’t what Gabriel had expected to hear. “What’s your fault?”

“Couldn’t protect Amelie. Genji almost died. Ana’s eye...” He sniffled. “You.”

Guilt sank its claws into Gabriel. “What about me?”

“Y’don’t need me.” Jack sniffled again, his chest starting to heave. “Y’don’t...w...want...”

Too late, Gabriel realized it wasn’t Jack’s _chest_ heaving and tried to hold the human out of the way, but he wasn’t able to keep them both completely out of the way and by the time there was nothing left to expel, both their shoes needed to be cleaned and Jack’s clothes bore foul-smelling wet patches.

“I want you,” Gabriel murmured, watching Jack slip back out of consciousness. “But not like this. Come on, let’s go home.”

Carefully, he gathered Jack into a bridal carry and debated the merits of flying versus walking. He wasn’t keen on being seen carrying Jack through the streets, or of Jack being seen in this state, but the idea of trying to maneuver an unconscious man in through the window decided him. It wasn’t a long walk and he’d carried Jack for far longer; they would go back on foot.

As he walked, Ashe’s words gnawed at him. Jack had only ever engaged in casual sex, she’d said. Brief affairs of no significance. But Gabriel had seen him look at a picture of his former lover at a time when he desperately needed comfort. His affections ran deep, then, and he - had he been deliberately avoiding getting attached? Ana said he punished himself when one of his officers got hurt in the line of duty, and Gabriel had seen that he put his own needs behind what it took to keep the guardian angels safe. A man of intense emotions who did not allow himself to get close to anyone else, because he put duty first, perhaps.

And yet, he put all of those for Gabriel, and what did Gabriel _do_?

Jack stirred in his arms, nuzzling his shoulder with his vomit-smeared mouth and letting out a vile-smelling sigh that had the angel recoiling and turning into the breeze for a moment. Once they reached the apartment, he was going to bathe his human and put him in clean clothes and then...what? Tuck him into bed? Jack did need sleep, there was no doubt of that, but so did Gabriel. The pull-out bed of the couch was big enough for two, if they were close, and he did not want to let his human out of sight for a while. They would sleep, and then when Jack awoke, they would talk.

He was approaching the apartment building when Jack stirred again, this time struggling to be set down. Gabriel complied, arm wrapped around the man’s waist again, and helped him stumble into the building and into the elevator. Jack was dead weight again by the time they reached their floor, of course. Getting him inside was less awkward than it could have been, and then Gabriel carried him into the bathroom. He stripped both of them naked, chucking their clothes into the hamper and making a note to do laundry in the morning. Then he propped his human up in the bathtub and washed him in warm water and all the soaps and things that smelled like home. Carefully, awkwardly, he brushed Jack’s teeth and rinsed his mouth out until his breath smelled like mint instead of vomit. Gently, he wrapped the unconscious human in a towel to dry him and lay him on his bed long enough to choose clothes.

In the end, he settled on clean underwear and the ‘I tolerate you’ shirt and carried his precious human to the living room. Then he remembered Jack’s obsession with modesty and squeezed himself into a pair of Jack’s underwear, as well. With his genitals safely tucked out of sight, he lay down and pulled Jack close, reveling in the feeling of warmth as the human’s back pressed against his chest. He indulged himself in nuzzling that golden hair, and then shifted until he could stretch one wing over the human as a living blanket.

Then, both yearning for and fearing the moment that Jack woke up, Gabriel let himself sleep.

~/~/~/~

Jack expected to wake up miserable, covered in his own vomit with his head pounding and his mouth tasting like something had died in it, possibly in the alley behind Deadlock. He did _not_ expect to wake up warm, somewhere soft, his mouth tasting like mint and his nostrils full of the temple-incense smell of his angelic guest. For a long minute or three he just lay there, trying to remember what had happened. He had been at the bar, getting more drunk than he’d been in several years and feeling pretty sorry for himself. Then...Gabriel had been there? He was sure he remembered the angel holding him up and maybe carrying him, but he could not for the life of him remember anything either of them may have said.

There were arms around his body, he realized. Arms, and legs tangled with his, and breath ruffling his hair as whoever-it-was slept, clutching him like a child with a teddy bear. Except, of course, that he knew who it was because no one else would have brought him home and bathed him with Gabriel’s toiletries, which meant the angel was holding him close.

The angel who had said _no_.

Jack could have cried, but he was pretty sure he’d done that already. He wasn’t sure when it had happened because every day with Gabriel was a balancing act between fondness and exasperation, but he’d gone and fallen head-over-heels in love with the Archangel and being held like this...part of him wanted to pull away, to storm off and yell and deny the angel the way he’d been denied. But the rest of him wanted this moment to never end, to be able to lay here forever and dream that when he rolled over, Gabriel would kiss him good morning instead of turning away because he didn’t want to be left with bittersweet memories when Jack died.

He could relate to that. His relationship with Vincent had been over for longer than it had existed, and he still mourned what he’d had and lost.

To distract himself and keep this little slice of bliss for even a few seconds longer, he focused on the blanket that covered him from chest to toes. It was much warmer than his worn comforter or ancient quilt, but light as a cloud and soft as silk at the same time. Careful to not disturb Gabriel, he reached up to tug it higher, up to his chin, and discovered he had a handful of feathers.

The blanket twitched, Gabriel stirred, and Jack froze.

Wing. He was holding Gabriel’s _wing_. Gabriel was using _his wing_ as a blanket and it made him want to cry. What was the point of offering him this intimacy, this glimpse of what he couldn’t have?

He must have made some kind of noise or motion because the angel murmured, “Jack?”

Jack forced himself to let go of those amazing feathers. “What?” he muttered back, his voice rusty and dark.

“How are you feeling?” The angel actually sounded like he cared.

“Comfortable, better than I should. Confused. Hurt,” he admitted, hating that the word came out sounding plaintive.

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel said softly, arms tightening around him. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“Don’t play games with me, Archangel,” he spat, throwing those hurtful words from last night back into the angel’s face.

“I’m not.”

The words were...soft. Open. An apology and a promise rolled into one, and despite his tangled emotions, Jack relaxed just a little.

“I know I was an asshole,” Gabriel continued in that same soothing tone, “and I hurt you. That wasn’t my intention.”

“Could have fucking fooled me,” Jack muttered, but there was no anger to it.

“I’ve never cared so deeply about anyone.”

It was like being thrown against the tree again, complete with the cracked rib, as Jack stiffened in shock and his side twanged unhappily.

“It scared me,” Gabriel continued softly, somehow managing to sound...vulnerable. “You saw what I am. What I _do_. That’s the point where most people want nothing to do with me. And even if they don’t,” he said, talking over anything Jack might have tried to say there, “do you know what happens if they start going down the wrong path?”

Jack remembered the uncaring, inhuman face of the Archangel of Death and swallowed. “You kill them,” he said softly. It wasn’t a rhetorical question; sometime in the thousands of years Gabriel had been alive, he’d had to kill someone he’d cared about. Probably more than one someone. The last bits of anger dried up, and his heart ached for the angel who had to be just as lonely as he was, but with even more reason to keep people at a distance.

“I understand,” he sighed, moving to roll over and noting that Gabriel let him go the instant he did. The angel had to have been anticipating Jack pulling away and that made Jack ache for him even more. Sure enough, when he turned in the angel’s arms to look into his face, there was sorrow and old pain darkening those silver-ringed eyes. “I’m not angry,” he murmured, one hand creeping up to cup Gabriel’s cheek but making no other motion towards the angel’s face.

Gabriel shuddered at his touch, eyes slipping closed, the wing shifting higher on Jack’s body as the arms that had been loosely wrapped around his torso tightened and drew him closer. Then, through half-lidded eyes, Gabriel gave him a look that was fill of yearning and closed the distance to brush his lips lightly against Jack’s.

Just like when he’d touched Jack on the balcony, that physical contact was almost electric and Jack gasped, all thought driven out of his head. He leaned in towards the angel, eyes fluttering closed as he chased and caught those lips, the kiss immediately deepening and turning fierce, or desperate, and he didn’t care. His touch-starved body took notice, making him break the kiss to groan as he hardened almost painfully and the legs tangled with his flexed as the angel made a similar sound.

That, strangely, ripped him out of the moment and spat him into the present where he panted, aroused and confused, on the pull-out bed in the living room with the Archangel of Death.

“I thought you didn’t want memories.” he half-asked.

Gabriel opened his eyes, the silver rings glowing softly and tuning his brown irises into a warm, golden color. “I hurt you,” he said simply. “Denying myself, causing myself pain? That’s an acceptable price. Your pain is not.” His voice became gentle, the warmth of it making Jack’s heart flutter almost painfully. “I’d rather have memories than regrets.”

 _There is no escape_. The words from the poem Gabriel had sent him yesterday - was it really only yesterday? - came back to him, and Jack knew with utter certainty that Gabriel _cared_. That had to be terrifying to a creature whose lifespan was hundreds of times longer than Jack’s, and he vowed to do what little he could to ease that future pain by maintaining the frail protection of denial. So instead of the _I love you_ he wanted to say, he smiled. “Then let’s make the best memories we possibly can.”

Hope flared in those gorgeous, inhuman eyes, and Gabriel smiled back. “You’re in for one hell of a ride, letting an Archangel court you.” he teased warmly.

“Is that a promise?” Jack teased back. “I’m sure you won’t disappoint.”

Gabriel leaned in for another kiss but pulled back with a serious expression. “Jack...if I’m an asshole, call me on it. I’m going to try not to be, not to you, but...”

Jack silenced him with a soft kiss. “Gabe,” he murmured, teasing those lips with brief touches of his, “call me Jackie again.”

The angel chuckled, returning the kiss for a long moment before pulling away. For the first time since he’d arrived in the middle of a thunderstorm, he looked genuinely _happy_.

“Okay, Jackie.”


	6. Géill Do Mo Thoil

**Chapter VI: Géill Do Mo Thoil**

“This is not the level of service I was expecting from you, Maximilien.” Moira narrowed her mismatched eyes at the silhouette of the businessman on her holoscreen. She was trying to hold her temper, because she knew that losing it would only destroy the good relations she had with the man and gain her nothing. Keep a cool head and see what could be salvaged from the situation before she expressed her...displeasure. “I paid for an angel and you delivered failure.”

“The contractors I hired ran into...unexpected difficulties,” Max replied coolly, his slender fingers absentmindedly smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles on his suit. “I did not _fail_.”

“You failed to deliver what I paid for, Maximilien.” Moira let a hint of venom slip into her tone, her mismatched eyes glowing with the rage she held in check. “I gave you five million, and what do you offer me in return if not empty hands?”

The subtle insult made Maximilien’s shadowed figure straighten. He wanted to snap back at her, but this was business and he had a reputation for being calm and detached. “Information, Dr. O’Deorain. I offer you information worth five million. It might not be the merchandise we originally agreed on,” he allowed, leaning back in the expensive leather chair that was visible on screen and keeping his tone even, “but I am confident you will be in agreement with me regarding its value.”

“Oh?” Moira arched a thin eyebrow, intrigued but trying to play it cool. She reached for a teacup to the side of the screen and brought the delicate porcelain to her lips to sip. “And what information are you offering me?”

“The explanation for my contractors’ failed operation,” Max replied. “It seems that Police Commander Jack Morrison had a trump card up his sleeve. This video feed was transmitted to me just before all attempts to contact the retrieval squad failed.”

Moira doubted any human’s ‘trump card’ would be worth what she paid for a live angel, but she wanted to see it anyway. For curiosity’s sake. “Show me.”

With a single gesture, a video began playing in the corner of their shared screen. The teacup fell to the floor and shattered into a million pieces as Moira registered what she was seeing.

In the video, a black-winged angel surged up off the ground and swung _something_ in a glowing arc, slicing effortlessly through armor and flesh and bone. The video played again, slowed down to half speed, then a quarter, and still the instrument in his hands was just a blur. Finally, playing frame by frame, Moira could see that the angel was wielding a scythe with red runes etched into the blade.

Death Blossom, one of the cardinal weapons of God.

Moira had studied her history, and she was familiar with angelic lore. There were four chosen ones handpicked by God himself to carry out his bidding, powerful beings capable of leading the angelic race in God’s absence and who had immense powers - including the powers of life and death. They were the only creatures worthy of wielding one of the four weapons of heaven.

She was looking at an Archangel.

There was an Archangel here on Earth, and he was on Morrison’s side. Frame by frame she watched the unfortunate contractors fall apart, all sliced cleanly in half in the time it took to blink.

“Are you satisfied, doctor?” Maximillien’s cool tone broke through Moira’s racing thoughts.

She was far from calm now; the desire to use an Archangel’s power to fuel her research burned in every cell of her body, excitement flaring brighter than the sun. Moira managed to shift her eyes from the slow carnage to the businessman’s shadowed form. “I have never been so happy with a purchase.”

“It pleases me to hear that, my friend,” Max said smugly. Another gesture, and the file transferred to her hard drive. “Our business is concluded, then?”

“Indeed, and quite satisfactorily.” Moira tried to contain her excitement, but it was evident in the way her hands shook. “That will be all, Maximilien. Thank you.” Moira disconnected the video call without even bothering to say goodbye.

This was huge; if she could get her hands on the Archangel’s power, she wouldn’t need to carry reserves of angelic power as she did now, glass vials of glowing liquid to be injected into her bloodstream when her store of power waned. If she held an Archangel’s power, then not only would he be able to succeed in her experiments, but she would be able to use the legendary Death Blossom as well. And if she could do that...

Well, who knew what endless possibilities would open up before her with one of the cardinal weapons in her hands?

The idea burrowed into her brain, waking mad desire in its wake. Her fingers itched to hold God’s scythe, and she would stop at nothing until her goals were triumphs. She needed to capture that Archangel no matter the cost, but for that to happen, she needed to make preparations.

Quiet was the way to go, she decided. No need to tip her enemies off just yet.

Moira opened the video, filling the entire screen with it, and set it to play frame by frame. When the angel’s face came clearly into focus, she paused it. She knew the names of the Archangels and their lore, what they were capable of and their titles, that that was just history. Things she’d read in books and tomes hunted down over the centuries. This was the real thing, a living, breathing Archangel in the flesh. A person, with desires and tastes and hopes...

...and fears.

Moira rewound the video, focusing not on the angel but on the figures in the background. There, was that...?

It _was_.

A soon-to-be-dead demon raised his soul blade just before power erupted from the Archangel, and his target was none other than Jack Morrison.

The protective action was almost possessive, as if Morrison was the most precious thing to exist; a chink in the Archangel’s armor that Moira can exploit.

“You two are _adorable,_ ” she chuckled.

There it was, the chink in the Archangel’s armor. All she needed now was to observe and prepare.

“Where there is God’s light,” she recited, eyes narrowed, “there are also shadows, and from those were born the Wraith: Gabriel. The most feared among God’s Chosen and yet, you seem to also be the most foolish.” She shook her head in mock-disappointment. One way or another, Moira vowed, she _would_ gain Gabriel’s power and bring the Archangel to his knees.

“You will surrender to my will, Archangel.” A dark promise as her mismatched eyes feasted on Morrison’s image.

**-TO BE CONTINUED IN ACT II-**

**Author's Note:**

> Here are the links to the art:
> 
> [Art Link 1](https://66.media.tumblr.com/75198d78874a98f3e4f31af76920d808/tumblr_ppvnd9ZlSu1trp8dto3_1280.png)  
> [Art Link 2](https://66.media.tumblr.com/d20861f09d18b8c47da253f818eb7584/tumblr_ppvnd9ZlSu1trp8dto1_r1_1280.jpg)
> 
> I'm actively trying to write Act 2! I'm hoping to get it out soon and posting will be after the event. :)


End file.
